Fuil 'o mo chuislean
by Sinvisigoth
Summary: On the run from the Volturi and her past, Bella meets the vampire that other vampires fear. Alistair, Laird/ex-smuggler/complete bastard, really just wants her to stfu so he can get back to cleaning his swords and hacking things to pieces.
1. Chapter 1

**Fuil 'o mo chuislean**

Fuil 'o mo chuislean translates as 'Blood of my veins' from the Scottish Gaelic. I'm intrigued with the character of Alistair, of whom I've had only fleeting glimpses in other people's fiction on this site, and mostly very much in the periphery. I wanted him to have his own story, and while I'm normally strictly team Jasper I couldn't get this idea out of my head. I also like writing a slightly older Bella as it's been a fair while since I was eighteen and I think early twenties gives so much more possibility for depth of character and experience. The good news is that writing this has reawakened my motivation for writing Supercharged, so expect chapter seven shortly. I have no idea why it works like that, as I'd taken a long time off, not with writer's block but with an addiction to an online computer game and a total lack of concentration for anything else, but I'm glad it does and I'm looking forward to getting on with both that as well as this story. I will no doubt take massive liberties with all things Twilight. While I've speed-read all of the books, I don't like them, loathe canon Bella (vamp-whipped, whiny, pathetic pussy with as much backbone as a slug), despise Edward and abhor Kristen Stewart as Bella even more, so my benchmark is really made up only of the incredible writing found on this site. There is no schedule for updates. If I were capable of planning ahead I would likely have a better job, no holes in my socks, and would have realised that it was 1AM when I started writing this. As always please tell me what you don't like and what doesn't work as well as what you do and what does.

**Chapter One**

**Bella POV**

The smell of freshly baked bread and pastries was torture to my roiling, empty insides as I held my hands in the warm air rising from the grate beneath the bakery. The black credit card that Carlisle had secretly couriered to me after the Cullens left me behind burned a hole in my backpack as always, made all the more tempting by the decreasing amount of small change I knew furnished my pockets. The risk of using it was too great, I reminded myself. I had a fair idea that my fate would be neither painless nor swift should I be found. And they were most definitely looking. Two dead wolves, one personal note in Aro's decrepit handwriting and several years of running left me in no doubt that the chances of them giving up their search for me were slim to none. And that their ire increased exponentially with each passing day for which I eluded them. I daily ran a full length feature of 'Oh how dead I will be' through my head, often preceded by the award-winning short 'No more breathing for me, ever'.

I glanced at my reflection in the store window, the gaunt cheeks, lank, lifeless hair and pinched mouth visible even in the predawn semidarkness; I'd likely be arrested the second I tried to use it anyhow. The old woman behind the counter in the bakery looked at me with a mixture of pity and wariness. One thing I had perfected during my last few years on the run was the thousand yard stare. I looked dangerous. I knew that because I was still alive and men twice my size avoided my gaze, my person, and my mouth should they happen to be immune to the first. Fuckers. I looked pathetic, too, though, and I counted on that for whatever food I could scrounge as much as I did on my flat gaze for survival.

I liked Scotland. The money here was prettier than anywhere else I'd been, even more so than South of the border in England, where the crisp notes were like miniature works of art with their delicate lithographs. I had a slight obsession with Scottish five pound notes; a vibrant Delft blue, their filigree beauty made them almost impossible to spend, despite the fact that my stomach was a nagging harridan that never let me forget its permanent emptiness. I ignored the last one I had, folded uncomfortably inside my bra, and instead chinked the coins in my pocket with cold fingertips. Used to the shapes of the coins now, I knew by touch that I had a little over two pounds in there. As desperate as that made me feel, the gnawing in my stomach was more so. I knew I would have to spend some of it, hopefully getting a little more for my money by asking for anything they had that wasn't fit for sale, bakery bloopers as it were.

With one last chink of my fingers the fabric of my pocket lining gave way with a muted ripping sound. The coins fell down the leg of my pants, out at the ankle, and rolled with urgency towards and through the ancient grating, which was part drain, part air vent, in the pavement that fronted the little bakery. I felt my mouth form into a round 'o' as I watched them flee, helpless to stop them. I stomped my foot forward, missing one by inches. I made a choked sound as my mouth pulled into a rictus of horror, dropped to my knees with a sob and scrabbled my fingers through the bars of the grate, trying in vain to find any trace of them. I felt panic clutch at my chest and hot, angry tears stream down my cheeks. Fuck fuck FUCK! No no NO! Fuck no!

I sat back on my heels and cried bitterly, the cold wind chapping my skin as it dried the salty tears on my cheeks. I didn't even have the energy to cover my face with my grimy hands or make a half-hearted swipe at the slimy snot trail I knew was winding its way down my chin. The fact that I had been reduced to this blubbering wreck, fumbling in the gutter for money, by the one person who promised me the world, both to show it to me and to keep me safe from it, only increased my snivelling.

A small sound made its way through my tear-fuzzied brain.

'Uhf-uh-uh'

I looked and saw a tiny hand outstretched, and the little girl it belonged to. Her breath hitched as she took in another shuddery breath, her tears not torrential like mine, and thankfully snot-free, but evident on her flushed cheeks and swimming in her sky blue eyes all the same.

"You ca-an have m-mine." she said haltingly, wiping at one eye furiously with the back of the other hand. "Please sto-op crying." she hiccoughed. I looked down at the hand again. It held a fifty pence piece. My heart broke into a million pieces. Her little fingers were shaking with the freezing cold just like mine, and her tiny frame looked half starved. Wrapped in a homemade dress, a holed and ragged sweater, a total lack of socks and shoes, and she wanted to give me what I assumed was the only money she had.

She shuffled toward me on small, perfect feet, her hand still held out in front of her as I shook my head furiously. The first weak ray of sun chose that moment to pierce the buildings around us, lighting her from behind. Her pale blonde hair surrounded her face like halo, its fluffy wisps curling against her cheeks and over her eyes a little. It gave her an ethereal quality that seemed incongruous with the freezing poverty that claimed us both. I thought that if I lived a thousand years I would never see anything more beautiful. She sucked her bottom lip a little as she reached me, repeating her offer with a motion of her eyes.

"I can't. No. Th-thank you but no." I managed between my own ragged breaths.

She seemed to consider this for a second, then withdrew her hand, instead taking the last step forward and draping her thin little arms around my neck, pressing one cold cheek against mine as she hugged me tightly.

"It gets better." She whispered so softly I almost didn't hear her, her words setting off a fresh shudder in my chest. She patted my hair softly before pulling away and wiping at my face, ineffectively but with a look of such concentration I had to smile. It was probably a horrible grimace of a smile, but she took it as a sign of improvement anyway.

"I'm Sophie." she said with quiet seriousness, staring into my eyes. The fragile soul behind those cornflower eyes knew all my secrets it seemed, was both achingly innocent and a hundred years old at once.

"I'm Bella." I replied, equally quiet, and with a small squeeze of one of her hands.

The pile of clothes against the wall of the nearest building chose that moment to fart noisily and mumble a vicious streak of gibberish. Sophie's eyes went wide.

"I hafta go. Me da's 'wake." She had the soft lilt of the outer islands.

"Wait." I fumbled hurriedly in my backpack, digging my arm in up to the elbow until my fingers brushed what I was searching for. I pulled out a rolled up pair of thick socks and threw them to her as she backed away with small, deliberate steps. She caught them, fumbled, dropped them and picked them back up with a huge smile. She pressed them to her cheek for a second, checking their softness.

"Feet." I said as sternly as I could, one finger pointing at her frozen little toes. She nodded and skipped over to the Da-bundle on the opposite wall, slinking down against the wall and unwrapping them clumsily. She pulled the first one on and giggled as it reached over her knee, clapping her hand over her mouth quickly as the bundle shifted next to her, letting out a deep, baritone grumble. With her eyes fixed fast on the source of the voice she silently pulled the other one over her other knee, wiggling the toes of both feet in satisfaction once she was done. She flicked the corner of the bundle of clothes over her legs and rested her chin on her drawn up knees, flicking her eyes between the bundle and I before sighing a little and closing them.

With a strength in my limbs I hadn't felt for months I stood, wiping hastily at my face, and dug my last five pound note out of my tattered bra. I rolled the lineny paper between my fingers, glancing uncertainly at the bakery door. I pushed it open slowly, as always hating the clang of the bell above announcing my entry. I stepped quietly to the counter and opened my mouth, then closed it again as I looked at the woman behind the counter. I had no idea what to ask for. I half closed my eyes as I took a breath in through my nose. I could smell meat pasties and my body knew what it wanted even if my brain had trouble finding the words.

Before I could speak I felt paper rustle against my cold, scabbed knuckles. Looking down in surprise I saw a large paper bag, bulging with promising shapes, the top closed and rolled over, small wisps of steam escaping the edges. I glanced up at the woman behind the counter. Old eyes regarded me with solemnity and kindness. She inched the bag closer to me.

"Keep yer money, lass. There's few as are kind to that one. I feed her da so I can keep an eye on her." She spoke matter of factly, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to guard a tiny life from her own father. It occurred to me that perhaps it was.

I choked out my thanks and stumbled out of her door and down the street, half scared that the generosity might be regretted and taken back at any moment. With a last glance at Sophie's small form I rounded a corner, heading toward the quayside to watch the sun rise over the river and fill myself with whatever the old woman had seen fit to pack in the bag. A little less hurry, a few more seconds, one more glance behind me and I would have seen the tall shadow moving in the alleyway behind Sophie and her sleeping father, would have witnessed the bright flash of sun glittering along a small patch of skin as it whipped away from the first glimmers of dawn. My stomach rumbled in anticipation as I moved away, happily noticing neither.


	2. Chapter 2

**Fuil 'o mo chuislean**

Not the most exciting of chapters, but necessary for background and lead up. Hope you enjoy.

Oh…CarminMoon….there's a little surprise in here for you :D xxxx

**Chapter Two**

**Bella POV**

My eyes rolled back in my head in sheer pleasure as the hot meat and pastry filled my mouth, juices running down my chin. The bench was missing one of the necessary slim planks of wood that made up its seat and my bony ass hung down in the gap, going a little numb. The ones either side were wet and a little slimed with soft green growth, algae or lichen I couldn't tell. I licked along the side of one hand to my wrist before the juice from the pasty could trickle under my sweater. The other hand was still wearing one of the pair of fingerless mittens that had been given to me while I had travelled through the towns North of this one. They were a pleasing mixture of hand dyed green, blue and purple wools, softly scratchy and utterly warm.

It surprised me how adept I had become at receiving charity graciously since I left Forks. I stopped eating long enough to one-handedly pull the matching woollen hat down over my head; the cold ache in my ears was detracting from my enjoyment of the impromptu meal and we couldn't have that. I squinted across the river as the rising sun turned pink and orange through blinding winter white before seeping away from the snow blue sky. My mouth continued to fumble pieces of the pie into itself unbidden as my thoughts drifted back to the beginning of my fugitive timeline.

_Edward's words rang in my ears and for a heart stopping thirty seconds I believed him. In that half minute I saw what a world as a broken toy was like, a world not without Edward, but without ever truly having had Edward, and I did not like it one bit. But his gaze was too even, his voice too toneless, the words he spoke contrived and without the punch of his normal, indolent surety behind them. He could lie to his family, lie to himself, but he couldn't lie to me for shit. I wasn't sure whether to be angry with him or amused that he would think to try. I felt loss and acceptance warring in my heart and I made the decision for us._

"_No. No, Edward." I placed an unwavering hand on his arm._

"_No?" He had not expected that._

"_I can't say it in as many languages as you must be able, but I could try a couple more if you're having trouble with this one." He looked stunned. I smirked. I allowed myself a fleeting and minute flash of triumph. He would be the overall victor in this, but it would be on my terms._

"_I know, Edward. Don't forget just how very much I know you and that magnificent brain of yours, as misguided as it may be right now. You're going to leave because you do love me, and because you want to keep me safe, not because I'm a burden. You love me enough to leave me, even though you are shattering into a thousand pieces inside, and know that I am doing the same. This isn't boredom, or a whim." I stroked his pale cheek and his eyelids snapped shut in pain. "And you didn't arrive at this decision lightly."_

"_Bella, I…"_

"_It's OK, Edward. I said my goodbyes to you, in my heart, the first time you refused to kiss me, when you put space between us as you walked me to class. I said goodbye when you stopped looking me in the eye two days ago. And now," I tiptoe-kissed his forehead "you are going to take me to our family, so that I can hug them goodbye, so that they can tell me they love me and will miss me. I always knew I would forgive you anything, but there will be less to forgive this way. You can't do this for me, it hurts too much, I know that. So I will do it for us both."_

_He clung to me then, like a drowning man. That was not far from the truth. With one swift motion he picked me up and threw me on his back. My heart ached to know that I would never experience this with him again. Nor would I walk among the trees again. He was as much a part of this place as they were, and without him they were no longer a forest, lacking their wildest component. The branches blurred past us, becoming lighter as his fleet feet brought us out of the tree line to the house where our family moved in tight circles, loading belongings and themselves into cars with total economy of movement. Those who were standing turned as we approached, those seated in their vehicles exited and stood with the others. Surprisingly, Rosalie's expression was the most stricken of all. I wondered then at what it must take from her to put on her ice queen mask day after day when it was the furthest thing from her true heart. I think Jasper must have relayed a little of that brief understanding to her, because she glanced at him askance for a second, before nodding at me slowly, biting her lip gently. The very human gesture did not seem out of place for some reason and she hugged herself closely. Carlisle smiled sadly as we stopped in front of the group._

"_Bella."_

_I slipped to the ground from Edward's back, astonished not to have lost my balance for once; that was only fair, I had enough bad luck to wade through today. I walked forward and embraced him tightly._

"_I know you're leaving." I couldn't step out of his arms at that moment if I tried. "I had Edward bring me here to say goodbye, and to somewhat change the terms of your departure."_

"_I don't understand." He held me at arms' length regarding me curiously._

I hadn't realised that I was smiling until I felt the wind's chill against my teeth as it blew across the river, mingling the far away smell of the sea with the rocky scent of the freshwater that rolled deeply through the canal. I wrapped up the remaining food tightly in its paper bag and lodged it down in my backpack, shuffling two sweaters around it to try to keep it from equalising in temperature with the icy air.

I could afford to spend one, maybe two more days here before moving on, a prospect I never looked forward to. The choice between trying to ride the trains without a ticket, hitchhiking or, god forbid, walking to my next destination was hard because while two of them could leave me vulnerable to whomever else was wandering as I was, the first could get me arrested, drawing exactly the kind of attention I didn't want. I'd had near misses so far, a combination of forethought and fate I think, but brains only get you so far, and luck always runs out. While I wasn't stupid enough to believe that this would not prove true in my case, I was desperate enough to push my luck one more time. 'Definitely dead if I didn't' beat 'possibly fucked if I did' every time. I leaned back, belly full and brain fuller, mulling over my options while my tongue picked stray morsels of food from around my teeth.

A squawk of surprise left my throat as I was hauled backwards and half over the back of the wooden bench by the arm I had wound through the strap of my backpack. Before it could even register that I was hanging across the wooden slats, my torso stretched precariously over nothing but air, another violent tug pulled the rest of me free of the bench. I barely noticed the scratch of an errant nail as it tore a small hole in the tender skin of my inner thigh. Likely I'd have enough presence of mind later to be grateful that it wasn't an inch higher. I bit my tongue heavily as my knees and feet hit the ground with a crack, my upper body held taut in the air by the arm still attached to my pack. I was being shaken like a rat and it took a few seconds before I could focus on my assailant. The dried vomit on one corner of an unshaven mouth and a bloodshot eye left me not wishing to see the rest of him. But the colour of his shabby coat, remarkably like that of Sophie's Da-bundle, gave me a good idea of who was currently trying to tear my arm off.

"Bitch….want….give…want it…bitch…it now…whore…" were the few words I could make out as he yammered at me from between lips bubbled with saliva. I felt a great fist grab a thick clump of hair above my ear and the instinctual, high pitched "Yaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh" noise that I produced on contact surprised us both. He was trying to rip and shake me away from my pack, obviously very much enamoured of its contents. Some of those contents were currently inching their way up and out of the few pockets that were not tied or zipped closed, like splinters easing their way out of flesh. Either that or they were just excited at the prospect of a fistfight. I snorted at the thought. Whatever they were, they all made completely different noises as they hit the flagstones beneath us. I heard one of them roll to my left and under the bench from which I had been dragged. I turned to bite the hand but it withdrew as if scalded before I could get anywhere near it. I settled for letting myself swing in a downward arc toward his legs aiming for anything that looked biteable.

Why wasn't I afraid yet?

_shake swish shake_

Fuck I think my arm just came out of its socket.

_shake swing shake_

Pink socks? Really?

I tittered at the sight as indignation swept through me. They had looked so much nicer on Sophie. My teeth crunched into his kneecap as I dug my bony fingertips into the soft, lymphy flesh behind the knee joint. "Didn't grow up play fighting with werewolves without learning some dirty tricks, you fucker" I muttered as I spat the taste of the fabric as far from me as I could. We both hit the floor in time with his scream. I hauled my arm back, ignoring the grinding in my shoulder, and swung my rucksack at his head with all I had. I found my feet with a quickness born of adrenaline and anger, and stomped on the knee I had already injured. He rolled sideways with a deep groan that almost escaped the audible spectrum, his leg drawn up to his stomach so that his ragged hands could cradle the injured joint. With a step back and forward for momentum I stomped down again, this time on the bony knob of his ankle. Feeling it squashed between my boot and the hard paving stone was more satisfying than I could have imagined. I worked quickly, stomping, slapping, hitting him again and again around the head with my backpack and my booted feet until the need to get the hell away from this evil bitch obviously overcame the desire to tend to his knee or covet my belongings.

With a lurch he swivelled on one palm and was up and loping through the dense rhododendrons that clustered close to every public walkway with an impressive haste. I threw my pack to the ground in triumph and frustration, shouting a loud "Gaaaaaaaah" of victory and pissed-offness after him, my fists clenching and unclenching at my sides.

I slumped, letting myself fall back as if to make a snow angel. The ground was cold. And lumpy. There was at least one beetle in my hair and I needed to find out which of my possessions had hurled themselves from my backpack in panic. But I figured that could wait until my lungs had fully reacquainted themselves with the joys of oxygen.

**~Sin~**

**Huge thank you to my first three reviewers, who got to choose a few key items or phrases that we'll encounter later in the story. Your choices will make themselves known as and when we get to those points in the story; thank you for the thought that you put into them. I do like to involve my reviewers at random, so beware of being put on the spot and having to choose what someone does next etc. if you've posted a review ;) Chapters will probably be kinda short until I get into full swing with the story, but there should be plenty of them. Until next time…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Fuil 'o mo chuislean**

**Thank you to those who have reviewed so far, especially as there's not much of a story yet to review. A tiny glimpse of the main man himself in this chapter, and a little more backstory. I'm hoping that you like my Bella, she's not what most of us are used to, I think, but I'm enjoying writing her. Dialogue is not my forte so any and all criticism welcome.**

**Chapter Three**

**Alistair POV**

Telling my father I'd been afraid of these dark caves had not been my greatest mistake as a child, but it had been the one I'd regretted the most bitterly. Most of my human memories were dimmed, but this one was still as clear in my mind as the day it had happened. He had shut me in the chains that were pinned into the stone walls at ten foot intervals, just above the high tide line, but close enough that the water would reach my hips before beginning to recede. After three consecutive nights of it lapping at my legs and leaching the heat out of my bones, it had taken more than I thought I had in me to look him in the eye and tell him I wasn't scared of them any more. It was the only lie he ever let me get away with.

Still, I had to admit that some of the more immoral pursuits with which my father had indoctrinated me had come in handy in more ways than one since those long gone days. And, my child's fear of the dark aside, most had been a lot more fun than the bevy of other skills he'd plied me with to ready me for the day when he would step down. Hiding dead people now was not that different than smuggling live ones from under the noses of the English all those years ago. I doubt he would want to accompany me through their dank corridors now, though, as I had done with him. The waters that converged at the cave mouth formed a boiling cauldron which eagerly sucked down my latest meal. If they ever resurfaced, it would be on the other side of the world and what little was left of them would be almost unidentifiable as a human being.

I almost took the drunk at the bakery; he wouldn't have noticed his own passing, he was so sotted. But the woman airing her laundry from the window above us had caught my eye. Or, rather, my nose. She was in her late forties, soft and rounded, not fat but ripe, with hair brown like hazelnuts and plump, dextrous fingers. She had smelled like harvest time and sinking my teeth into her throat had been like leaning back on a hay bale on a late summer's day. I had found her bending over her laundry basket when I entered her small flat. The morning sun was still only a soft glow through the window but it was enough to illuminate me as she turned. Her inward breath was the only sound she made and she seemed unsurprised. That in itself was refreshing, as my large form was tall enough to have had to bow my head deeply as I passed through the doorway to her spartan kitchen.

"Alistair Mackenzie at your service, my lady."

She bobbed her head thoughtfully and put down the freshly washed sheet she had been folding.

"Aye. That you are. I saw your likeness in the Great Hall when I were a lass." She pursed her lips, looking like a schoolteacher. I didn't care enough to ask if that were the case, but did note that if that assumption were correct, she'd be quickly missed. But worry was alien to me, and expediency my style anyhow.

I kept my expression impassive. I had thought my face long forgotten, my name even more so, or, worse, paired forever with the word 'coward'. I nodded my own head in return, no interest in conversation, instead focussing on the steady beat of her heart, which had neither increased nor decreased since my arrival. I didn't allow myself the pleasure of finding out why; I loved mystery. She murmured a quick prayer as I took the two steps between us in one long stride.

When I slipped her body into the cold, sucking waters of the caves less than an hour later she was wrapped in one of her freshly laundered sheets. She made no complaint, as was the way of the dead. Most of the time.

**Bella POV**

Finding all my belongings and stuffing them back into my rucksack was a short enough task. I'd said goodbye to my chapstick as it had stubbornly chosen to lodge itself in the side of a small turd. Dog, I hoped. And farewell, too, to a small photo of my mother, Renée, that had drifted across the stone paved path and into the river to float aimlessly. That suited her, I thought with a small smile; she always had gone where the wind blew her, rudderless and happy about it. I hoisted my backpack on my uninjured shoulder, flexing the other slowly as I moved off at a slow pace, allowing the wind to determine my own direction just this once.

More than ever now, I needed a wash. I'd been thrown unceremoniously out of truck cabs and cars for lack of it before, and while I'd not yet decided on my mode of transportation, I wouldn't get far smelling like a dung heap. That set me off on a fit of giggles. Edward had always exclaimed over my scent as if it were the most heavenly thing in the world, strawberries and freesias apparently. As much as I had loved him, I had always found that aspect of him a little girly. If I were honest, as I'd grown more into my womanhood I'd felt a nostalgic kind of resentment for having been reduced in his mind to fruit and flowers. There had been something about it that had somehow made me…less. I tried to quash the feeling that perhaps some small part of my current predicament was to prove than I was not.

To say that I was now 'more' would have been an understatement if I'd been able to stomach the arrogance it took to say it in my head. I felt like a hundred year old crammed into a twenty-three year old package. How many other people my age could claim to have raised one of their parents, almost died, almost caused a death, actually caused another two, been both loved and hated by supernatural beings, become homeless, fugitive and top of the vampire royalty's wanted list by this age? Is it weird that I am strangely proud of that? Or perhaps of the fact that I am, despite it all, alive? My sense of pride circumvented the possibility that I might also be wanted for the theft of the occasional roll of toilet paper from the public restrooms. Which is where I was now headed.

This place was meant more for the convenience of people taking a leisurely stroll along the waterfront and less equipped for a full body wash; there was no hot water at this time of the morning and there was no door to keep the elements out. All I could do was choose the wash basin farthest from the doorway. My entire body puckered with goosebumps at the thought of washing in icy water while the winds from the Atlantic bellowed through the narrow room. Arranging a washcloth, razor and bottle of shampoo/conditioner on the cracked, white sink I took a couple breaths, turned on the water and stripped to my underwear in ten seconds flat. Pulling a knee length man's t-shirt over my head, I got rid of the underwear, too; it could steep in the soapy water while I washed everything under the t-shirt. I plunged the cloth into the water and gasped raggedly as I quickly lathered myself all over, sluicing the foam off in hasty strokes. The only thing my traumatised flesh could do was leave my brain to wander back to my past again while my fingers scrubbed at the rest of me in earnest, anything to avoid thinking about the indignity it was currently suffering.

_Carlisle. In another time I'd have felt a little smug about managing to confuse him. As it was, I was no less confused myself._

"_I know you're leaving." I couldn't step out of his arms at that moment if I tried. "I had Edward bring me here to say goodbye, and to somewhat change the terms of your departure."_

"_I don't understand." He held me at arms' length regarding me curiously._

"_I don't know how much Edward told you of how he was going to leave me, but I assume that he has at least told you all that there'll be no contact with me once you leave. Am I correct?"_

"_Yes, that has been one of his requests so far. We are still considering whether or not to abide by it." Carlisle's tone left no doubt as to who was the leader of this coven, but it also carried a deep undercurrent of love for his son and sorrow at the choices we were all faced with._

_He flicked his gaze to Edward, who looked a little ashamed underneath the powerful regret and hurt that his expression was currently broadcasting. Esme moved beside Carlisle and rested a hand on his arm. They shared a private glance that, having been half of each other for so long, spoke more than anything they could say to each other in that moment. It occurred to me then that I had seen similar looks shared by all the Cullen couples. All but Edward and I. As much as this was going to hurt, my mind seemed already to know that this was not an unnatural course of action for us. Whatever it was that we had had, it had lasted as long as it was meant to last. They were my forever, but he was not. The fact that that knowledge killed some tiny, helpless piece of me was something I could not dwell on right now._

"_As I've already told Edward, we're going to do this right, as right as it can be done, that is. The idea was to cut all ties, I believe, leaving me to 'go on with my life'. I understand his reasons, and while I can't accept them" Edward looked up sharply at that "I can and do forgive them." His eyes softened. _

_I stepped out of Carlisle's grip, giving his hand a slight squeeze as I looked at the rest of the Cullens. "For reasons I don't want to go into right now, I am going to respect Edward's wish that I have no contact with him, and that includes not asking any of you about him. But I am, by your own definition, still part of this family, and as such I will still have as much contact with the rest of you as I or any of you want. It may or may not be safer for me to not be living with you or near you, but the damage is done with regards to me knowing about you, so I really don't see how keeping in touch could hurt at this point." I turned my head to look at Edward. "I love you Edward, and I'll do what I can to make this choice of yours easier on the both of us, but I will not give up ~our~ family."_

"_I shouldn't have tried to choose that for you." He nodded slowly and his voice broke slightly. "But, Bella, it's going to be so much harder this way." I took long strides to stand in front of him. I ignored the urge to hold his hand, to throw myself at him or touch his face – jesus this was hard – but I couldn't help scuffing the toe of his shoe with mine a little._

"_Yes, it will. But if it didn't hurt, if it wasn't hard, it would be as if there was never anything between us. And that I ~cannot~ accept. I have nothing to compare this love to, and my mind can't even begin to accept anyone else to compare you to, not yet anyway. But it was real, Edward. It was real, and wonderful and loving you and you loving me is part of what makes me Me now. Can you honestly say that it's had any less effect on you?"_

"_No." he grinned his crooked grin, it even reached his eyes a little. "No I can't say that. It's true change is hard for us, impossible even, but I am not the same Edward you met. My change is more subtle, I would even hazard a guess that you may have already started to outgrow me, even if you don't know it yet. But still, I am different. How did you become so much stronger than me?"_

"_Maybe it was all the falling down." I winked at him. Surprised him again. Good to know._

_I felt cool arms slide around me as Alice stepped behind me and held me to her, her chin resting on my shoulder. I leaned my head against hers, feeling at peace with my decisions._

"_I knew that you would come through, Bella. It might feel like the end of the world now, but this is the right course for you, for us all. But I would never have lost contact with you, not even if things had gone very differently, I hope you know that."_

"_I do, Alice. I know that. You're the only best friend I've had since kindergarten and it'd kill me not to be able to talk to you. Although," I smirked and nudged her with my elbow "this new arrangement will have all of the benefits with none of the drawbacks. Like..say…Bella Barbie?"_

_She giggled. "That doesn't mean I won't poke my nose in every so often, especially on the rare occasions when I might see you decide to go shopping."_

"_I guess I can deal with that." I said with a smile. I hugged her hard then, not wanting to lose the smell of her more than anything. For all of her fashion following, Alice never wore perfume; she didn't need to. The scent that was pure, unadulterated Alice would always smell like home to me. Jasper came up beside us and wrapped an arm around each of us, leaning down to kiss the top of my head. His eyes were a little dark, but his control was impeccable and I saw the pride in Alice's eyes at the simple gesture._

"_Bye, Jazz. I know why you've never spent as much time with me as the others but I love you loads, and you're awesome, 'k?" I patted his hand with my own, leaning into his embrace briefly, not wanting to push him farther than he was comfortable with._

"_You too, Bella. Maybe we can do something about that not spending enough time together since it'll be phone calls and emails now?" He snuck my phone out of my back pocket before I could protest and buzzed his thumb across the screen quickly before handing it back to me. I didn't get the chance to pocket it again because Emmett had it out of my hand quicker than I could blink. Before I knew it my phone was being passed around the other family members, all entering their emails and a couple their phone numbers. Carlisle took longer than the rest of us. When he slipped the phone – and something else, I could tell by the shape – back into my pocket, he leaned close to whisper to me._

"_I will still take care of you to the best of my abilities, Bella. Use what I've given you, or not, as you see fit. I've programmed Mr Jenks' number into your phone, too. If you should get into any trouble that we cannot help with, or you cannot reach us, call him or go to that address. He will ask you a question to confirm who you are. Whatever the question, the answer you must give will be 'golden eyes'."_

_I could only nod my acceptance as Emmett was currently wrapped around me, rocking us from side to side gently, his chin resting on the top of my head. I spied Rosalie out of the corner of my eye, pointedly not looking at any of us, her arms still crossed protectively across her chest. Her face looked like I felt inside._

"_Guys. I can only be grown up about this for so long so I think maybe it would be best if you guys go on now." My breath hitched as I spoke to them and I felt Emmett's arms tighten for a second before releasing me._

"_Edward?" I saw he stood off to the edge of the clearing now. "I don't know if you're going to change your mind after you've gone, but I need you to know that you still can, but not for long." I spoke evenly but knew that he heard me. "I'll grieve for us, and I'll give us both a month. But after that I'm going to pick myself up and I'm going to move on. If you feel differently within that time, you know where I am. But, Edward, I like who I'm becoming, and I can't guarantee that I would want things to go back to the way they were."_

_He nodded slowly, taking in all that I'd said. He smiled then, a pure, happy, Edward smile. The one I had fallen in love with. That smile told me that I wasn't going to have to deal with his return. And although it hurt, it felt right. The pain returned to his face for a moment and, taking one long last look at me, he melted into the trees, his head low and fists clenched tightly._

_The others gathered up the last of their belongings silently, allowing Esme a moment to have me to herself. She wrapped me tightly in her arms, the way that only mother's can, and purred softly as she rested her cheek against mine. "I have never, in all my years, been so proud of my children." She said softly. "Edward could not, would not have handled this well. You might not know what you've done, but I'm pretty sure that this family will stay whole because of it."_

"_Esme…" My voice was choked and I couldn't get the words out._

"_I know, dear. I love you, too, more than you can know. And I will always be here for you, Bella, always."_

_I nodded furiously, my chest tightening and as tears threatened to obscure my vision. It was all I could do to blink them back as I returned her hug before she stepped over to Carlisle's BMW. Carlisle walked past us to open the door for her, squeezing my shoulder and kissing the top of my head gently before closing the door and walking to the other side of the car to slide behind the wheel._

_Alice and Jasper were already sitting in their car and I saw that Alice's eyes were closed in the slightly dreamy way they always were when she had a vision. When she opened them and looked at me in wonder, then with a huge grin, I wanted to be able to manage a smile for her. I probably should want to know what she'd seen, but for now my heart was seconds away from breaking in two. The crack widened a little more as Jasper gunned the engine and they drove smoothly down the driveway and out of sight. Only one car remained, the farthest away, Emmett leaning on the roof with the driver's door open, while Rosalie stood off to one side not looking at either of us._

"_Emmett, please, I can't…." He grimaced at my words and took a deep breath before taking his seat behind the wheel. My phone beeped once and I read the short text message. 'Love you, Sis. Em x' I sob/laughed as I felt the moisture on my cheeks as the first tears wound their way down my face. Rosalie still stood apart from the car, not looking at either of us, her posture uncertain._

"_Love you, Rose." I whispered so that only she could hear. "Love you with all my heart."_

_I didn't even have time to blink as she streaked toward me a blur of motion, and suddenly found myself wrapped in the tightest hug I thought my human body could withstand. I heard a sob and realised that it wasn't me._

"_You know," she said against my hair "it is going to be so hard not to tell them all 'I told you so' after this." She wiped away her venom tears without letting go of me. "As much as they might try to explain my being a bitch to you as being a result of having a tough time as a human, it was really just that I didn't like you." Ooooookay. Not where I thought this was going. Rosalie heard my small hmmmph of indignance._

"_Let me finish damnit." She said with a small rap of her knuckles on my head. "The first couple months, yeah, I didn't like you. I couldn't see what all the fuss was about and, honestly, I didn't like that you were all of a sudden the centre of attention. I resented you and I had no problem showing it. But when I stopped judging you by vampire standards, started to see who you really were, what it must take for you to cope with things, with us, the way you did, I started to care. And that just made me meaner." She chuckled into my hair, her hand stroking my back. "I knew that something like this would happen and it was going to hurt. It was going to hurt a lot. And I didn't want to be one of the ones hurting, so I did my best to push you away. You might not have noticed it, Bella, but you started growing up more after what happened with James. I don't know if you resented Edward for not letting the change happen, or if it was something else, but you were a little bit more real after that. I started to love the girl who quietly, stubbornly started to stand up to Edward, just little bits, here and there. And now here we are at the I-told-you-so part, and I don't know what I'm going to do without you. But that part's just between the two of us, ok?" She smoothed my hair back to look down at me._

"_I promise, I won't say a word." I nodded and squeezed her before letting her go. She looked a little fraught but still beautiful. She stepped lightly into the car and closed the door, turning to look at me and wave as they drove away._

_For one perfect moment, every single thing in existence was still and quiet. No wind stirred the leaves, no birds sang, no traffic roared along the far road, even my heart was still. Peace. I would make this moment what I remembered of this day. Not what came next._

_My knees gave way as the anguished scream of loss and longing tore from my throat…_

…and I spluttered and gasped in shock as I immersed my entire face in the freezing water, my chest fighting its own sobs as well as for air. I looked at the shivering figure in the mirror, the spider web cracks and crushed crystals in places giving me a surreal, gargoylish appearance in the dim light.

I still had to wash my hair, but I could do that with my clothes on. I grabbed a clean t-shirt, socks and underwear out of my bag, shimmying into them while drying other parts with the large washtime t-shirt and squidging a little of the deodorant stick under my arms. A little warmer and lot more clothed, I took a deep breath and stuck my head under the running tap, hissing at the burn of the extreme cold on my scalp. I worked the shampoo/conditioner mixture in as quickly as possible and stood away from the sink while I scrubbed my fingertips over and around my scalp. As unpleasant as the cold was, there was no point not being thorough with this as I had no idea when I'd get the chance again.

When I'd finished working the lather into my hair, I stood back over the sink to rinse it. I stuck my head back underneath the tap. The cold was so extreme it went beyond simply stinging in a matter of seconds. The longer the tap ran, the colder the water became, until my entire head was one enormous throbbing, stabbing ball of hurt. I moaned in pain as I tried to rinse the soap suds out quicker, but the ache just got more intense and my hands started fumbling because they were hurting almost as much as my head. With a groan and one last, huge throb my vision went black and I was barely aware of a sharp pain in my chin as I fell.

I came to some time later, less than an hour as I still had some feeling in my extremities, only to find myself the object of interest to a large, shadowed face. The heavy, pinched brow made dark holes out of its eyes, holes that peered at me as if I were some particularly tasty morsel. I was too dazed to make out any features, only that it was male, large, and didn't seem friendly. I concentrated on trying not to smell the icy blood I could feel plastering my chin and mouth.

"Huh whad who're what you?" I couldn't make my words come out but he seemed to have understood me. I felt an unyielding, marble thumb trace the scar on my wrist.

"Alistair." His voice rumbled. This is what a mountain would sound like if it could talk. "The question is, who, or what, are you?"

"Fuck." I lost consciousness – again – to perhaps the most wonderful, and terrifying, Scottish accent I had ever heard.

**~Sin~**

**So I hope you enjoyed that. I really did :D Hopefully that's not too cruel of a cliffhanger; I was too excited to hold off posting any longer and am already working on the next part. Until next time…**


	4. Chapter 4

**Fuil 'o mo chuislean**

**I hope you're enjoying this as much as I am :) Thank you to those of you who are taking the time to review this, I do appreciate it. Hopefully my chapter lengths will even out a bit now and I can keep some kind of consistency in what I'm giving you with each update. The song mentioned in the first part of the story, Alyson Hannigan by Wax On Wax Off, is awesome and should totally be checked out if you haven't heard it. The fact that it's about a Buffy character who also happened to run with a werewolf just tickles me. I'm having to limit my own style a lot, which naturally comes out kinda wordy and pretentious (if you've read my other – now mostly abandoned – story Broken Saints you'll understand what I mean), but do let me know if I'm not managing it or if you want more/less detail, more dialogue/less description. There will be Bella/Alistair mush at some point in the story, but it'll be a slow burn to get there so relax and enjoy ;)**

**Chapter Four**

**Bella POV**

When I regained consciousness the quality of the light shining through the gaping doorway gave me the impression that it was close to midday. I was stiff, completely numb and seeing double a little. I tried to wipe the blood off my chin with the back of one hand and ended up smacking myself in the face. When I turned my hand around to look at it I noticed that it held a small sliver of metal. Blinking furiously, I saw that it was one of the razor blades from the razor I had put out to complete my ablutions with. Looks like I'm going be Hairy Mary for a while longer until I can afford another one. At least the total lack of circulation meant that I couldn't feel the scratchy stubble on my legs for the time being. I looked down and gasped in horror.

My other hand was upturned in my lap, a thin red line tracing one of my blue veins from my wrist to halfway up my forearm. It was only a scratch, but its meaning was clear. He had done this. The giant guy, Alistair. And he had ~posed~ me; he had posed me like a suicide victim, the sick fucker. I felt myself gag a little and a small portion of my breakfast made its way to the tiled floor. 'I can get to you', the mark said, 'I did get to you, and I will again'. It also had something quite insulting to say about my supposed death wish, but I refused to listen to that one. Cold swept through my body from head to toe like an icy waterfall, filling every corner and crevice of me with dread, and I started to shiver uncontrollably. The hardness of his hand as he'd held my wrist told me he was a vampire. But this was obviously not the kind of vampire I was used to. I sobbed in panic as I looked up. If there had been any doubt, it was dismissed when I looked at the mirror and saw the word RUN written in my own blood.

He was hunting me.

I heard a muted rendition of Wax On Wax Off's 'Alyson Hannigan' coming from my rucksack. The only phone I had was the one that Alice had left on the ground for me as they drove away. It was for the gravest of emergencies only and had remained switched off until a week ago. I cursed myself for not turning it off again. It was ringing. Shitfuck. This was in no way good.

I thrust my arm deep inside my bag, ignoring the spiteful pins and needles that were bringing the limb back to life, and clasped the vibrating phone. I hit the answer button on the third try.

"Alsh? Hmphmm. Alice?" Throat dry. Next stop, drink.

"Bella? BELLA! Oh god oh jesus you're alive thankyouthankyouthankyou." I could almost hear her bouncing on her toes in relief.

"Yes, I'm alive, I think." Yeah, that is debatable at this point, or at least how long I'm going to remain that way with a seven foot psycho playing suicide games with me. "Is there a reason I wouldn't be?"

"Argh! Yes, I had a vision of you. I couldn't tell where you were but you were already hurt, the room was covered in blood and you were being attacked by a vampire. He was huge, I've…I've never seen anyone so big; he made Emmett and Felix look like toddlers for god's sake. Where the hell are you, Bella? Is someone after you? Have you seen anything strange?"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down, Alice. I'm beyond freaked out right now and I think something seriously fucked up is going on but I don't think I'm in any danger in the next five minutes. Calm down, we'll talk. I'm gonna put you down for a minute, though, OK? I need to get up off the floor, clean myself up and get some feeling back in my limbs or I won't be going anywhere any time soon."

"'K." I winced a little, it was so unlike her to sound so subdued. I balanced the slim phone on the nearest toilet seat and stood to check my face over in the mirror. Check number…oh…say….twenty-five of things I wish I hadn't done today. Hi, my name's Bella and I'm a sunken-eyed crackwhore, please excuse the blood and drool.

Failing to find anything more appropriate, I used the oversized t-shirt to wipe furiously across my chin until the dried blood was gone. There was a large, puffy split running vertically through my lower lip which stung like a sonofabitch when I touched it but which I didn't seem to be able to stop tonguing absently. I rinsed the fabric with clean water, dabbed at the wound again and put a blob of antiseptic cream on it. I threw the wet garment and the shattered remnants of my razor in the trashcan, shuffled myself back inside my coat and walked to the door. Hoisting my backpack onto one shoulder I pressed the phone back to my ear as I stepped out into the sunlight.

"OK, Alice, what's up with this? I haven't spoken to any of you for years…"

"And whose fault is that? You disappeared, Bella! After all you said and how you handled us leaving, you went and did the same thing to us!"

I could hear murmuring in the background, which I assumed was Jazz trying to calm her down. It seemed to work, but I didn't disagree that I had it coming for leaving them in the lurch like that, I'd just rather it were postponed until we can be sure I'm not on the menu.

"OK…I'm sorry…let's start again." I could hear in her voice that her agitation had lessened, but still felt a little guilty for causing it in the first place; she'd been nothing but a friend to me and I hadn't acted as well as I'd have liked.

"I'm sorry, Alice, I'll explain when we have time to talk, but I do get the feeling that other things warrant our attention right now, OK?"

"I know, I know. There's not much more I can tell you about the vision than I already have, but perhaps it would help if I knew where you were?" She wasn't fishing for information, but I was still a little reluctant to give away my location. I had no idea if the Volturi monitored electrical equipment like cellphones, but it wouldn't surprise me in the least.

"It might be more helpful to see if you guys know anything about the sicko I ran into a couple hours ago. Does the name Alistair ring a bell? He…OW! Jesus!" I had to yank the phone away from my ear at the vicious growling I heard on the other end of the line. That was totally unlike Alice; I had no idea what would have pissed her off that much. The creeping dread started a little party in the base of my spine and proceeded to make every hair on my arms stand slowly on end.

"Alice? Are you still there? Alice, what the hell is wrong?"

"I…ah…Jazz would you go get Carlisle for me?" I heard a grunt and a door slam. "Bella, just so I have this straight, as I'm sure there could be any number of Alistairs in the world, can you describe him at all?"

I had been wandering slowly back across the small expanse of park toward the busier streets of the town as we talked and, looking all around me for anything suspicious, plonked my behind down on the base of a large statue.

"Honestly, no. I was semi-conscious at the time." Her small harrumph told me that we would be discussing that later, too. I sighed. "I came round for a few seconds and he was there looming over me like some fucking giant from a fairytale. Dark hair, I think. Jesus I've never seen anyone so big. He seemed interested in my scar, from what I can remember."

"Did he say anything?" Alice's voice was so tight with worry that I could picture her other hand effortlessly splintering the arm of her chair into kindling.

"Well, yeah. I think I tried to ask him who he was. But he seemed more interested in who I was. Oh, and he had a Scottish accent."

Silence. It dragged on, and on, the rest of me shivering as every single hair on my body stood erect with trepidation. I could only manage the smallest of whispers.

"Alice?" Her lack of response was stretching my already taut nerves as thin as they could go and then some. I kept looking around me nervously, half expecting to be pounced on with no warning at any second. All I saw was an old woman feeding some ducks from a bridge and a businessman looking at the tourist information map, surreptitiously scratching his backside.

"I…I…Bella, I think…CARLISLE!"

Fuckshit. This is so much worse than I thought it was. I folded in on myself a little, hugging my arms tight around me. I heard a little scuffle on the other end of the phone, a couple of brief slaps and a 'No I'm talking to her' before I heard Alice again.

"Bella? Bella?"

"Yes, yes still here."

"Sweetie, I'm going to put Carlisle on the phone. I think he can explain a bit better than I can." She sounded defeated. The phone crackled as it changed hands.

"Bella, it's been a long time." Carlisle sounded stressed but there was an undercurrent of relief and affection that I felt in equal measure. I may be in deep shit, but I couldn't help feeling incredibly happy that I was finally getting to speak to them again after so long. I could kick myself later about that.

"Carlisle." I heard my voice crack. "It's so good to speak to you."

"To you, too, Bella. We have a lot to catch up on, I know, but I'm afraid that must wait. From what Alice has told me, you are in a very precarious position."

"You guys seem to know a lot more about it than I do." I frowned, puzzled. "Unless it was because I told her I was semi-conscious. I should have explained it was only coz I fell and hit my chin in the…"

"It wasn't that. Bella, where are you?"

"I…ah…I honestly don't know if I'm OK with saying where I am, Carlisle. It's not that I don't trust you, but with the Volturi after me…"

"The Volturi? I'm sorry to say, but the Volturi are nothing compared to the problem you may be facing. You mentioned a vampire called Alistair to Alice?"

"That's right. Bit of a perv I think." I was trying so hard to lighten the weight I felt inside, but my attempt at humour fell flat even to my ears.

"If it's the Alistair that I know…you said he was big? Huge? With a Scottish accent?"

"That's right. Those are the only two things I really remember about him. But…he did do something odd." I could hear the question in Carlisle's soft 'hmmm'. "When I regained consciousness the second time I was posed. Like a mannequin."

"Posed how?"

"Like…like a suicide victim." I heard his angry hiss. "He'd taken one of the blades out of my razor and drawn a little scratch up the inside of my wrist and posed me with the blade in the other hand." I clutched the sleeve of my coat tightly around the offended limb, as if I could make it not have happened if I pressed hard enough.

"Son of a motherfu" was all I heard before the phone smashed against something and the line went dead. I stared at mine in shock. Carlisle doesn't lose his temper. That's like…like a polar bear wearing nipple clamps. Does. Not. Happen. Less than ten seconds went by before my phone showed an incoming call from a different number.

"Bella, I know you don't want to tell me, but I need to know where you are and I need to know right now. Please, for the love of god, tell me you are not in Scotland." My mouth gaped open at his words. I tried as hard as I could but for a few awful seconds I couldn't make my throat work.

"I…I…ah…Carlisle, I…"

"Bella, please!" I heard a menacing snarl and it hurried my response even though I thought it was directed at someone who was in the room with him.

"I can't, Carlisle, I'm….I am in Scotland. I have been for the last two months." I was shaking hard now. This was the first time since that day in the ballet studio with James that I had felt such intense fear. But it was worse this time, because I was miles away from the only people I knew could help me, and I had not walked into this situation willingly, or even well informed.

"Sweet jesus." Taking the lord's name in vain was a first for him, also, I thought. That I had heard, anyway; his and Esme's 'special time' was something that just did not exist inside my head. "Bella, wherever you are, I need you to get up and start walking. If there's a train station nearby, it'll be busy as well as the best way for you to get out of Scotland so start walking there and do it now."

My legs had forced me to stand and were making their way out of the park onto the street before I could even think about what I was doing. I had a rough idea in which direction the train station was, and turned my feet to face accordingly. Like the city it served it wasn't huge, but there would be a decent amount of people there among whom I could lose myself, hopefully long enough to board a train and escape South to England.

"OK, Carlisle, I'm walking now and I should be there within twenty minutes. Please, please tell me what you know, or what you think is going on; you are really freaking me out and I have no idea why." He sighed softly.

"Is there anything else you can tell me about what he did while you were unconscious?" he asked in a more level voice.

"Well, he uh he wrote 'RUN' across the mirror in my blood. This…this is bad isn't it, Carlisle?" I was trying to fight the tears that were tightening my throat but I was having some serious trouble finding my big girl pants right now.

During my years on the run, away from my family, my home and everything I knew, I'd been sometimes days without food or somewhere warm to sleep and I'd not cried as many times as I had today. The notion that this may be one of the last days I had left to experience flitted through my head. I banished it immediately but it still made the bile rise in my throat. Had I spent so long around vampires that I'd started to feel immortal myself? Untouchable? Even fleeing from the Volturi, there was stress, a tremendous amount of stress, but not nearly as much fear as there should have been considering what they _could_ do to me if they chose. As frightening as they were, they still constituted part of the known Bella universe.

Perhaps it was beyond foolish to believe so, but some part of me was, I think, quite convinced that should they have caught up with me I would have been able to talk my way out of it, or call upon my ties to the Cullen's yet again. I didn't like this sudden, unimpeachable knowledge that I was very, very fucked. And that I might be just as dead in the near future, perhaps even today. If Alistair had proven anything with his ghastly little Bella-exhibit, it was that I am most definitely touchable.

**Jasper POV**

"Son of a motherfucking whore cock shit!" I wanted to move but I couldn't, I was too astounded at what had just come out of Carlisle's mouth. I think I probably would have been less mesmerised if I'd suddenly come across a ten breasted woman; there wasn't a chance in hell of tearing my eyes away from Carlisle in this state.

"Bella, please!"

I could hear from Bella's voice that she was frightened out of her wits, and Carlisle's emotions were making me nauseous, so I assumed she was right to be scared. He was cycling from terror through denial and protective concern to murderous rage. And that killer inside suited him very well. I had never seen him look so much like a wild thing and was desperately grateful to Esme for choosing that moment to enter the room and move silently over to Carlisle. She laid her hand on his arm in all her gentleness, and although his anger retained its magnitude, his malevolent emotions weren't the explosive chaos they had been a moment ago. Only a mate had that effect on us, and I felt their bond tighten to sing in the air between them as she mimicked his footsteps, all the while keeping one point of contact with his restless body.

Up until this point it would never, ever have occurred to me to be afraid of Carlisle. Seeing his face as he hurled the phone across the room, in a moment of blessed true clarity, my respect for him increased tenfold as did my pride in being numbered among his sons. Fucker has game. Gotta give him that.

The second I tried sending a dose of calm at him he rounded on me with such a ferocious snarl that I backed off as quickly as I could without provoking him. His eyes were deep, black, bottomless; that had been a very bad idea. I've heard Carlisle mention Alistair before, but rarely in a sentence of more than ten words, and always in as evasive a way as possible. If he couldn't even bring himself to talk about him, then what kind of shit Bella had gotten her sweet ass into? I picked up the scattered pieces of Ali's cellphone from where it had hit the dresser and flicked them into the trash. He was using mine to speak to Bella now and I hoped that it didn't meet the same fate. I'd called Rose and Emmett while I was downstairs, though, so at least if it did bite the big one it'd have accomplished that much in its short but drama riddled life.

Keeping an ear on the conversation with Bella, I chose a chair on the opposite side of the room from Carlisle's temper and concentrated on sending some calming waves to my Aligirl. It took an enormous amount of fucking anything to stress her out and she was more so now than she had been when we'd been trying to keep Bella from James. Her face looked pinched and her hands rubbed around and over themselves constantly as she watched Carlisle and listened to the exchange between he and Bella. I growled under my breath at no-one in particular that she was having to feel like that. She smiled in gratitude as the relaxing vibes reached her and came over to me to stroke my hair and throw one of her arms around my neck while I purred into her embrace. That was just like her; she was the one who was strung out but she put my feelings before her own as always.

Carlisle was pacing to and fro fitfully. If he hadn't been in such an ornery state I might have tried to get a gauge on his emotions again but I wasn't gonna push my luck. When I heard Bella say on the other end of the line that she was in Scotland, I felt something very strange from him come hurtling out at me with a speed and certainty that shocked me. Sorrow and resignation. The only time I'd felt that particular combination, I think, was from shell shocked soldiers about to have a limb amputated; even condemned men about to die held out hope until the end. Considering how important Bella is to all of us, that made me shiver a little despite my own proficiency in battle. Was Alistair some worse kind of monster than your garden variety vampire? Surely whatever it was that had Carlisle so tied up in knots we would face it as a family, as we always had, and prevail.

I watched Carlisle slump into a chair, rubbing his hand across his face, as Bella told him what Alistair had written on the mirror and my certainty faltered. If it were possible, he looked older than he had five minutes ago. Staying so tightly controlled was taking its toll on him, although he was not quite so close to breaking point as he had been when we realised that Bella had disappeared without a trace.

_Alice and I were waiting at the airport to meet Bella's flight. It would be almost a year now since any of us had seen her, when Emmett, Rose, Alice and I had taken her to Las Vegas for her 19th birthday. I never would have thought Bella would turn into such a party animal but her argument with one of the table dancers had been almost as much of a disaster as Alice stumbling across her singer shortly afterwards. Bless Rose for stepping in on Bella's side. Despite both of those things, I'm proud to say we showed Bella a damn good time, although the rest of us weren't sure whether to be insulted or amused that Bella's favourite memory of the night had been her subsequent night in jail with Rose. Selfishly, I took a huge amount of satisfaction from every single good birthday memory we were able to give her. She had never once blamed me for trying to take a bite out of her, but that didn't mean I didn't still feel a little lingering guilt over tarnishing such an important birthday. It had become important to all of us to make sure that her birthdays after that were filled with as much fun and happiness as possible. I loved that we could make her feel that without the use of my gift. And, I could tell, so did she._

_There was no sign, as we waited for her flight, that there was anything amiss with Bella. There were no worrying visions from Alice, no ominous calls from the Volturi, no nameless sense of foreboding. If anything, quite the opposite. Alice was practically bouncing on the spot with anticipation. Ironically, it was probably her best performance as a human yet; we find it notoriously difficult to fidget in the same manner as they do. There were tickets to a Broadway show in Alice's bag. I knew she was dying to give them to Bella the second she saw her, but her visions had shown her that she'd get the best reaction if she waited until the last minute. Damn me but that didn't stop her pleading with me every ten minutes to be able to give them to the poor girl on arrival._

_Having to wait was absolutely killing her, and several of the airport lounge's seats had paid the price for it. I was hoping no-one would notice the bent metal and punctured upholstery until we were well on our way back to our house in the hills outside the city. Her struggle for control over dragging people willy-nilly into the hectic world that was Alice was almost as great as my struggle to deny myself human blood. As different as those two things were, they were both so ingrained in our natures that I wasn't any less proud of her for her control than I was of myself for mine. And that was what made us such an inseparable team; polar opposites, but with such a profound understanding of each other that half the time we didn't need to talk. The thing that I love most about my marriage to my beautiful mate is that our silences mean as much as our conversations. Even this agitated, this buoyed with excitement, there was a part of her that was so calm, so still. The centre of her, where her love, her family bonds lie unchanging and undiminishing, was something very like the eye of a hurricane._

_I don't know if we could have stopped Bella disappearing for good if we'd had some warning, but we would have tried. When her flight arrived, we watched as person after person walked through the arrivals lounge, each and every one of them not Bella. By the time we realised she simply hadn't been on it, Alice was almost stammering in panic. It must have been a split second decision on Bella's part; if the action comes to pass quickly enough after the decision is made, there is no vision to be had because what has been decided and the domino effect of its consequences are already in the past. I felt utterly helpless as I stroked Alice's hair while she whispered hurriedly on her phone to Carlisle. When I saw a swish of black clothes and pale golden hair across the lounge, I shushed Alice quickly and whispered one word to her._

"_Jane."_

_Alice's mouth shut instantly and she shut the phone, knowing Carlisle would have heard me. I grabbed her hand and hurried her through the crowds and back out to where Emmett and Rose were waiting in Em's Jeep. They knew the second they saw us come rushing out without Bella that something had gone horribly wrong. If I'd not been so worried, I would have found it not more than a little amusing that Rose felt more worry than Emmett did. But then, after their little post-fisticuffs night in jail together, she and Bella had become almost as deeply entwined in and with each other as Bella and Alice were. Thus began three years of searching and hoping._

**Bella POV**

Carlisle continued to talk to me as I walked. I wish I could say that his soothing voice was calming, but everything he was saying was just putting even more pressure on my already fraught nerves.

"I get that he's a human drinker, Carlisle, and that that's dangerous, especially to me coz even under the body odour and the grime I still probably smell damn tasty. What I don't get is why this is so much worse than me coming across any other human drinker. We all know that some of them can be cruel, even play with their prey. What is it about Alistair that I'm missing here?"

"Bella, I have known Alistair for over two hundred years. I am probably the only person or vampire that he considers something akin to a friend. And by friend I mean I am likely the only vampire he would allow a few seconds to explain themselves rather than killing them on sight. You must leave Scotland. He is hunting you, so he will follow you. I _may_ be able to talk to him if we can get him on soil foreign to him, but even I would be torn apart the second he laid eyes on me if I had the audacity to set foot in the country he has claimed as his own, especially to interfere with his…pursuit of you."

"His country? That's…isn't that a little strong? An entire country? Surely the other vampires that live here must…" He cut me off before I could finish my sentence. I might have been a little annoyed if I hadn't been so very fucking close to peeing my pants.

"There. Are. No. Vampires. In. Scotland." I gasped. "Even the Volturi won't venture there because they are so afraid of him. And on the rare occasion that he visits Italy, they recall the entire guard, wherever they happen to be in the world, and they go into total lockdown until he leaves. After his first visit, where they lost over ninety percent of their guard, they will not risk facing him again. Do you understand, Bella? I cannot stress enough how dangerous he is, how volatile; he almost _exterminated_ the largest group of gifted vampires in the world on that first meeting. And, it pains me to say, that the only person who can help you until you are out of that country is you."

I was shaking like a leaf at this point. I couldn't wrap my mind around what Carlisle had just told me and it felt like my legs did not want to keep me vertical for much longer.

"Carlisle what can I do?" I still search frantically around me for any sign of him every few seconds and my breathing was becoming harsh. I had to calm down somehow but it felt impossible.

"The first train to England is still your best option. And not just across the border, go as far South as you can, to the coast. Are you near the station yet?"

"Yes, I think it's only a few blocks away now. Will you stay on the line with me? I'm just…I don't think I can stay calm by myself." I choked back the sobs that were making it hard to talk. I had taken only a dozen more steps when something occurred to me, something that stopped me in my tracks and sent prickles up and down my spine. "Carlisle," I said slowly "if he…came across someone that I had touched, someone who had my smell on them, what would he do?"

"I think you know the answer to that, Bella." My vision narrowed to a pinpoint and there was only one word screaming round and round in my head.

"Sophie!"

I swivelled on one foot and pushed off at a ninety degree angle with the other, urging my legs to find the energy for longer, faster strides.

"Change of plan, Carlisle." I ignored his cry of frustration and dropped the hand that held the phone low to my waist.

Having turned away from the route to the train station, I forced myself to run fast, faster, my backpack thumping painfully against my ribs. I raced down narrow streets, across a corner of the park, through an alley. As I reached the first gentle downward slope of the hill at the bottom of which was where I had last seen Sophie and first seen her Da, I saw the familiar blinking of red and blue lights behind the buildings. I sprinted down the hill, past windows and doors, gaining speed thanks to the incline and puffing like my lungs were about to give out.

As I rounded the last corner I saw the stationary ambulance and the paramedics loading a stretcher with a zipped, black body bag on it into the rear of the vehicle. My mind grabbed onto and repeated the same phrase as I covered the remaining metres to the busy scene, 'nonononononononono'. I stopped on the periphery of the action and cast my eyes around, looking for something or someone that I recognised, trying to see if I could catch a glimpse of the blonde hair or small form of Sophie. If I had led him to her I couldn't…no, don't think that don't think that.

How could seconds seem so much like hours? They stretched out in agonising detail until I found what I was looking for. I could hear Carlisle calling my name over and over through the phone but it was a leaden weight and I couldn't lift it to my ear until I knew for certain. Finally, eyes. The eyes I found looked back at me with recognition.

The old lady from the bakery didn't look at me quite as kindly as she had before. My entrance told her all she needed to know about my part in what had happened just outside her shop. I glanced back at the gurney carrying the body and saw the smallest corner of Da's vomit beige coat protruding from the zipper. The old woman turned to face me fully and her eyes flicked down to the little girl asleep in her arms. Her limbs looked awkward, perhaps sedated rather than sleeping, and who wouldn't have needed to be. I hadn't believed in anything enough to pray since I was smaller than Sophie, but I prayed now. I prayed that she hadn't seen it, hadn't smelled the blood that was spattered in two glistening ribbons across the opposite wall, hadn't heard her father's last breath or cry.

Another woman stepped up to the bakery owner, perhaps thirty years her junior but so similar in looks that it had to be her daughter. She nodded confidently at her mother and held out her arms demandingly. The old woman patted Sophie's back and ran her fingers through the fine mess of blonde curls before easing her into her daughter's arms.

I didn't understand at first why she had been spared by the giant hunting me; she'd hugged me tightly and my smell must be all over her. Until I realised that Da would have had my smell all over him too. But, more than that, he would have had the scent of my fear on him and my skin under his dirty fingernails. I remembered what Edward had told me about the instinctive reaction of a vampire to another vampire interfering with or even simply approaching near their kill, and it became clear. It did nothing to ease my mind, but I was more grateful than I could put into words that he had attacked me this morning and thus taken his daughter's place.

I didn't dare move any closer, but the daughter listened to something her mother said and also turned to me. She was smiling, and I recognised just how beautiful the older lady must have been in her youth. She saw my hesitation and took some small steps toward me, everything about her way of moving was gentle. She stopped in front of me, her smile said a great deal of what she grasped of my part in all this, and of Sophie's importance to me.

"She'll be mine now." Her voice was as soft and lilting as Sophie's.

"I know." I nodded my acceptance of this. I thought that the little girl in her arms probably wouldn't know how lucky she was for a long time yet.

"He was bound to meet an end of some kind sooner or later. We've been biding our time until we could do this for her. Ye ken how useless social services are; it would hae taken them months or years to get her away from him."

"I do. I'm glad she'll be safe now." I could feel the tears trickling silently down my face and was thankful that she both understood their presence and refrained from mentioning them. "I…I envy you just a little, for having a lifetime with her ahead of you. I'm too young to be a mom and my situation…" we both let the sentence trail off without remark. "I only met her for a few minutes and I think I love her."

"That's every child's gift to us. They can make us feel when nothing else can." I swear, all Scottish women are part witch; they have a wisdom and a simple connectedness that they seem to be born with.

"That's very true." I smiled then, I couldn't help it. Just thinking about how Sophie made me feel was enough to banish the day's terrifying events for a moment. I held a hand out to touch her while she slept but hesitated, not wanting to put her in any more danger. I berated myself; my smell was already all over her, and adding to it was a selfishness that she shouldn't have to pay for. "Bathe her." I murmured, receiving a brief nod in return. I allowed myself the length of one breath to stroke my finger over her silky cheek and tug at a curl before withdrawing my hand. She was still warm. I was satisfied with that and turned away from them with a nod of my own to Sophie's new mother and the knowledge that she'd be thoroughly loved.

I pointed my feet back the way I had come, put one in front of the other and lifted the phone back to my ear.

**~Sin~**

**I'm trying to work in the Scottish accent in a few important words, eg. hae (have), nae (no), ken (know) and ye (you) without translating entire sentences phonetically. It might be slightly more correct if I did do that, but I've read stories where authors did this for Jasper's accent and it ruined almost every scene with him in because it was just too much effort to decipher constantly, even when they didn't get the accent horribly wrong. I'm pretty sure that, like they did, if I tried to use it too much, my thoroughly imperfect grasp of the accent I'm working with would be too apparent. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I loved most of it, had a horribly difficult time writing Jasper's pov because I got stuck, mostly due to the fact that while it was necessary, I was looking forward to writing what came after it. Was Jasper's pov too short, btw? There's a lot of backstory to tell, but I'm trying not to piss you guys off by having chunks of flashback that are too big and don't leave room for the present day story to continue very far. Perhaps at some point I can manage a whole chapter of flashback followed by a normal chapter posted at the same time so we can have the best of both worlds. Let me know. Until next time…**

**1****st**** Feb 2013: Having thought long and hard about one particular comment from a reader, I've decided that yes, if Bella had been so panicked about her scent being all over Sophie, she wouldn't have left without warning the woman to remove it, so there is one tiny change in the last paragraph. Apologies in advance if this change shows up as a new chapter in your inbox, for those of you with the story on alert; you shouldn't have to wait much more than another few days for the next, much delayed, chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Fuil 'o mo chuislean**

**With sincerest apologies for the long delay in posting. If it helps at all I typed most of it with a broken hand. No kidding. Huge, heartfelt thank yous from me and snogs from Alistair for all of your reviews and PMs, especially those that continued to come in even though it must have looked like the story had been abandoned. I apologise to those of whose reviews I did not find the time to answer individually; I will do better! If it weren't for all of you, I would not have found the motivation to continue.**

**Chapter Five**

_To see a world in a grain of sand,_

_And a heaven in a wild flower,_

_Hold infinity in the palm of your hand,_

_And eternity in an hour._

William Blake – Auguries of Innocence

**Alistair POV**

Twenty-three minutes and fourteen seconds. I was missing time, meaning that someone had decided to pay a visit. I closed and opened a fist, watching the hairs on my arm lie flat again and the muscles realign. I cracked the bones in my back as they settled and huffed in indignation. For all my unnatural long life and power, I was a puppet still, and all my wishing to the contrary would not change that. I turned my open palm upward and the possessive urge that followed my next breath made my eyes roll back in my skull.

_Aye, lad, I brought ye a wee present_.

On any other given day that phrase would not bode well. In this instance, I thought that my mostly silent friend had been more generous than my experience had led me to expect. Smeared on the whorls of one fingerprint was a small drop of blood. He had been busy. This was the origin of the infuriating fragrance, my sole focus as I had become aware of my surroundings. Every single human I ever had drank from, buried, or simply ignored had all been readily identifiable aromatic compositions. The blood on my fingertip did not follow these rules and it was making my head hurt. Hurt…ha! That was a sensation I'd not felt for a very long while.

'_Ha' indeed. This is new. I don't like it_.

"Then shut yer hole for the love of all that's holy. Do ye forget whose fault this is?" The small fern in front of me seemed unimpressed with the brutality of my demand and continued to wave insolently in the light breeze.

I closed my eyes and concentrated only on the messages being relayed to my brain by my nostrils. The vampire sense of smell can detect every individual chemical in the air, in any creature or thing. But where our prey is concerned, our senses categorise them in terms of the olfactory fusion that is peculiar to sentient creatures. Self awareness has its own unique stench.

_Sentient? Have we ever smelled a dolphin?_

"Be silent. I'm thinking. Damn yer hide I'm referring to humans, as well ye know."

All humans are made up of three distinct perfumes, just like a chord in music, which form the one overall scent by which we recognise them. There is the 'base', the most robust, which defines the largest and most instinctual part of the personality. The 'concomitant', determined by the things the person wished they were or strove to be, compliments the base by bringing out the best qualities of both. I vaguely remember putting salt on meat as a human, and this works no differently . The 'adiacente', the triangular opposite of both, harmonises the chord, and is a midway point describing both the person's family and to what toxins their bodies are most susceptible. This last functions to bring their scent into three dimensions, making them appear in the olfactory senses as solid rather than ephemeral. Just like humans themselves, their scents are a balance of emotion, mind and body.

_Why not breasts? I like those. Why is there nae a smell just for breasts?_

"I. Hate. You."

_Aye. I ken that very well. The feeling isnae mutual; ye are far too entertaining_.

We vampires have our own chords and harmonies, very close to what they were when we still drew breath. When we turn, the base and concomitant remain the same, but the essence of familial lines and vulnerability to substances is replaced by a much more strident component that simply announces 'vampire'. As family lines mean nothing to us and there are no substances of which we can fall foul, it makes a strange kind of sense that this is so. I do not know if the scent grows stronger or only seems to because of our heightened perceptions, but the result is the same. Even taking the call of blood into the equation, the smell of another vampire is heady and intense; our human counterparts are bland in comparison.

This blood was neither. I was not used to riddles and I felt angry at the tiny spot. I did the only thing I could do, and the one thing most in my nature. I brought my finger to my lips and took the blood onto my tongue.

_Now ye are getting the idea, my young friend_.

There was a cacophony of white noise somewhere but I paid it no heed. Colours turned black and then white and then nothing before floating into focus as themselves again. Though their carrier fluid was drying, the blood cells were plump and firm still, like the roe of the great sturgeon I had hunted as a man. They burst upon my tongue as it laved the roof of my mouth and the flavour registered violently in every one of my senses. Knowledge. I owned something. I needed the something and I needed to make it know that it was my thing and mine alone. The impulse jolted through my venom, racing to tell every part of my body that it must stop all others from coveting or touching what was not theirs.

My confusion lay in the fact that the scent belonging to the blood had no separate parts. Where there should be clear divisions between three aspects there were none, yet it was the headiest, most alluring scent I had ever come across. It called out to me with the strength of a thousand voices, yet it was just one, and it made _no sense_!

I swished the flavour around my mouth, re-catalysing the release of the scent. It announced itself in every pore; _woman!_ it cried, no harmony, no chord. One and one only, this thing of mine, and woman it was.

I roared into the mountainside on which I lay, fists and furious cockstand sinking into soil and boulder. I could not calm, and peace was no longer a part of me. I snarled my anger at the blood which had hurt me with its submission, and at the friction boiling in my limbs as they prepared to chase down the owner of the scent. I saw the muscles of one arm begin to buckle and twist under the pressure of my anger and clenched my fist against its progress.

"No. Ye. Will. NOT." I shuddered as I waited to see if my body would obey my command. It did, and I was left to quiet away my thoughts as well as I could. This want was hurtful and desperate and led me to only one conclusion. I had heard of singers and knew them to be impossibly rare, even for the most nondescript of vampires. How strange must this human be that it should call to such as myself?

_Singer ye say? Interesting_…

I reached the outskirts of the town before I knew I had made the decision to leave my spot on the mountain. The sun was full upon me but my speed would have ensured that any mortal eyes would have seen only a brief flash, a star falling in the daytime. With more caution I stole along the outlying streets, slowing further when I began to register many heartbeats around me. Heartbeats were accompanied by ears, and ears by suspicions; I must be more gentle in my pursuit.

_That's right, sneak around like a wee bunny, ye big jessie_.

By the time I reached the paths that led to the river, the small amount of blood had stopped wreaking havoc within me, leaving only the briefest of aftershocks. I had to find its source or I would go mad with wanting it.

_Mine._

For once we were in agreement. That in itself was highly annoying.

It became harder to go unnoticed as I followed the maddeningly fresh scent trail down to the waterfront. Having hunted earlier I felt no need to feed, but every dawdling human grated on my nerves with their proximity to what was mine. I growled low and continuously in irritation as I approached a small building where the smell seemed to be concentrated. It was taking a great deal of effort not to kill everyone in the vicinity and I hoped there would be no-one inside, because they would not survive my arrival. With one last glance to ensure no eyes followed me into the small facilities, I ducked my head and stepped quickly through the doorless entrance.

_Elvis has left the building!_

I thanked no-one in particular for the lack of an occupant as every muscle in my body snapped taut as a bowstring. The scent was so many times more intense than before and my fingers crushed the tiled edge of the doorframe. I was fighting to remain upright and in possession of my wits. I could not afford to lose myself in it again, as much as I wished it. It was not difficult to see why my nostrils had been assailed so violently this time. A broken mirror was written on in a bloody script, and a smear of the same gore decorated the rim of the washbasin below. I was before them in a instant, leaning my head down to the mirror to draw as much of the scent into me as I could with one breath.

I recognised the handwriting all too well. A new feeling welled up in me, directed toward the owner of the silent voice. I was uncomfortable in its newness. For the first time in over two hundred and sixty years I felt…gratitude. My ancient passenger wisely remained silent as I reached this epiphany.

I muttered a mixture of blessings and curses under my breath as I traced the drying stains on the mirror with my fingers. They felt crusty, and I felt the loss of each miniscule flake as it sheared off the whole and was whisked into the prevailing wind from the waterfront. I wanted so much to stay here, communing with the scent. Perhaps I could…no-one could take it from me, or me from it…I could stand vigil, keeping all from finding what was mi-

_Ye know better than that_.

"Aye." I whispered. "I do. But what now? Not home…not…away."

_Smell how fresh it is still? It cannae be far_…

It was right. I had to move, and move I did. First out the entrance, then through trees, which whispered their encouragement as I passed their gnarly torsos. I reached a wooden bench on the other side of the trees and for a moment did not grasp its significance. Until I noticed the difference in the smell here.

Pain. Fear. My prize had been afraid. It had been hurt. Someone had thought to take it. A nail in the wood was dully red with the same blood I followed and held some few particles of flesh. There had been violence done here. The beast inside me unfurled itself and roared, rattling the bars of its cage. There was anger here, too, though. My prize had been angry. It had fought back. It knew even then that it belonged only to me.

_Yes yes_.

"Sing for me. Tell me what happened." I crooned to the small drops of blood and tears that anointed the grass at my feet. The much larger footprints that crisscrossed the smaller, scented ones stank of something altogether different, and wholly within the realms of understanding; whisky and mould. I thought for a moment that those were simply from the garments of the owner, until I realised that this unhappy creature did in fact possess a scent comprised of these two things. The underlying family line was brutish and reminded me of a hermit who withered away his last four decades among the cliffs of my own time.

_That old man washed twice a year and he smelled better than this fellow_.

"Aye. But this one is about to become just as dead."

Something inside me keened as I abandoned the scent trail of my prize to follow the bog creature who offended so many parts of me. It was his unhappy fortune that he had not wandered far. More still that he chose the moment of my arrival to backhand the tiny child next to him across the face, knocking it to the ground. He turned at my snarl; it simply gawped in wonder. Then it cried out in pain and its scent reached out to me like a ray of light, pure and smelling of something innocent I couldn't describe.

_Not that one. We don't hurt that one. It's important._

I didn't get as far as voicing my agreement before not-my-arm flung out not-my-hand and grabbed the child's small woollen garment. _Rage_. I could feel the change happening faster than I ever remembered, the shocking fuzz stood out from my limbs and I felt the hackles on my neck ripple to rearrange my hair into a spiky mane. As gently as a monster could, not-me deposited the small creature on the other side of a hedge, hearing its feet land in the soft earth of a recently turned flower bed. A growl ripped from my throat as I turned to the transgressor in the vomit coloured clothes. I was relegated to the background as my beast came out to play.

"_Have fun, my friend_." Was the last thought I had before a satisfying splash of red obscured vision that quickly turned black.

**Carlisle POV**

It didn't take a genius, or in my case a vampire, to figure out what had happened. I heard the wind rushing as Bella ran toward some unknown goal, and then her footsteps slow. It seemed strange that there would be anything that Bella was putting above her own safety at this point, until I heard her talk about a child. I looked over as Esme, who smiled knowingly at me and squeezed my hand. She was her father's daughter, certainly; Charlie's kindness and self sacrifice were as natural to her as breathing. But I had enough ego to recognise that Esme and myself had had some hand in how she turned out, too. I would take time to feel proud of her later, though; right now, feeling frightened for her would serve us both better.

"Bella, are you still there?" I heard a sniffle, thankfully accompanied by footsteps.

"Carlisle…I yes." She sobbed softly, sounding not just a little mucusy. "Carlisle I'm a…I'm an a-a-asshoooole." She wailed. The footsteps stopped. "I'm a complete, absolute, dribbling asshole. I'm so sor-"

"Yes, Bella, you're an asshole. And as much as I know you love a pity party, we don't have the goddamn time for you to stand there feeling sorry for yourself. If you don't want all the things we've been dreading these last three years to come true, I suggest you _move your ass. NOW_." I cringed as I shouted the last words at her. I hated myself for speaking to her so harshly, especially when I meant not a word of it, but I had to get her moving again.

I could follow her line of thought pretty well. What small wrenchings of the heart she might be feeling as she walked away from the child she'd befriended had led her to think about what she had put Esme and I through when she disappeared. The sniffling, talking and sobbing all stopped, but the footsteps started up again, more hurried than before. I scrubbed my palm over my face in equal parts relief and frustration.

"Bella, sweetheart, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that; I just needed you to start walking again. You can cry as much as you want when you're back with us again, I promise, just please don't stop walking." I heard a quiet snort on the other end of the line.

"It's OK, Carlisle. I needed that. And even if you didn't mean it, you were kinda right." She exhaled loudly. "I can do this." She sounded determined, her voice hardening. "Fifteen more minutes and I'll be there. How much can happen in fifteen minutes? Don't answer that one, Carlisle, it was rhetorical."

I remained silent as requested; I really didn't want to dwell on just how much could happen in such a short time, and I guessed that she had a good idea anyway.

"Are there people where you're walking, Bella?"

"A few. Not so many that he probably couldn't kill them all if he really wanted to get to me but enough to make it a little more work than it's worth…perhaps."

I shifted my gaze to Alice who gave me a double thumbs up and a smile.

"Bella, Alice says you're going to reach the train station with no problems. I'm going to pass the telephone to her for a moment. I need to speak to Esme and make some other calls.

"OK, Carlisle. And…thank you."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. Here's Alice."

I ushered Esme out of the room; we would need to move quickly if we were to catch up with Bella by the time she reached her destination in the South. Esme keyed a number on her 'phone and I heard the answering service for the private jet we kept on standby. I smiled; she always knew what I was thinking.

**Bella POV**

I wiped a snot-free sleeve across my face. It came away less snot-free. Would I be dead before I got the chance to do some laundry, I wondered. I'd put my chances at about fifty-fifty at this point.

"Bella." Carlisle's voice had segued straight into Alice's; damn sneaky vampires can't even make a noise handling an object that contains a microphone.

"Alice." I was out of practice smiling but the tight feeling in my cheeks was welcome even if the split lip wasn't. I felt the weight of my own failures but there was something about Alice that calmed me, that had always calmed me. "I just…I know there's a lot I have kept from you guys, and I will explain when I can, I thought…" My head wasn't keeping up with my mouth the way I had hoped it would.

"Oh, Bella." The tears in her voice told me all I needed to know about her instant forgiveness. Yup. I'm an asshole. "We'll talk, sweetie, we will, I promise. Just keep yourself safe until we can get to you and you can let it all out then."

I didn't realised I'd been holding my breath again until I let it out in a whoosh. There was a lump in my throat, not from grief, just from the emotional weight of having these conversations. I felt lighter, though, despite knowing that I'd sinned, against all of them, but against Alice possibly the most.

"Thanks, Alice. You can spank me later if I don't get squished, OK?" The giggle I got in reply was just a little dirtier than I'd expected.

"OK, but don't tell Jazz, he'll get jealous."

"Jazz wants to spank me, too? And…you're OK with that?" This felt good. This I remembered. The easy to and fro between us, laughing even when one of our lives was on the line. I heard Jasper's deep chuckle on the other end of the line.

"Alice, I'm almost there now. What do I need to do when I get there? Can you see anything right now?"

"Hold on."

I watched the people I passed while I waited for Alice to reply. Most of them seemed to be hurrying a little. Then I realised it was me who was hurrying, making them approach and move past me quicker than their own momentum alone would have done. They all look eerily normal as they brushed past, looked in windows, talked on 'phones. The occasional dirty look was thrown my way and I wondered just how bad I actually looked.

"Bella? There are overbookings on almost every train South. They're already pulling people out of coach. You're going to have to get in there and buy a First Class ticket to London on whichever train is on platform nine. I can't see which it is because the display keeps flickering, but I know if you don't go for First Class your future gets a lot fuzzier than I'd like. Which I'm assuming means he's way too close."

"Crap. Alice how in hell am I going to afford a First Class ticket?" I sprinted down the gangway, narrowly missing one couple with rainbow coloured Mohawks who reminded me of a pair of mating angelfish.

"Use the card Carlisle gave you!" If there was a font called Duh!, Alice's voice had just used it.

"Are you kidding? They'll have me goddamn arrested! There's no way I look like I haven't stolen it." My legs were pumping now as I approached the ticket desk. I scooted into place just in front of a party of five who huffed and tutted at me.

"Nuhuh. It's on Carlisle's account. They'll call to double check. Let him handle that part. Just get ready to haul ass the second they give you the ticket."

"OK, Alice, I trust you. But shit this feels like we're cutting it close."

"What would you rather?" She sounded exasperated. "A close call or no call at all because you're missing about seven pints of something really frikkin important?"

"Good answer. Goooood answer." I flipped the cellphone closed and plunged my hand into my now open rucksack, frantically searching for the telltale shape of Carlisle's black credit card.

First try…handful of tampons…fling them on the floor before anyone notices it was me…lalala. Second try…oh crap…meat and potato pie does not make for a good hand cream. Third time…Holy Grail!

I triumphantly slapped the card down in front of the sneering ticket agent just in time to announce in a proud and happy voice.

"A First Class ticket to London on the train leaving from platform nine, please."

I had no idea an eyebrow could reach that high on its own. Were they allowed solo flights? A corner of the mouth was trying to join it as the wrinkled and liver-spotted hand swiped the card from in front of me and plunged it sadistically into the machine. Damn. That was kinda rapey. I could feel how wide my eyes were as they flicked between the card machine and the ticket agent. The beep. I hated the beep. The other eyebrow joined the first, which apparently was not allowed out on its own yet after all. One hand picked the telephone. The other pressed numbers while both eyes kept me in their steady gaze. I was impressed. Shitting myself, but impressed.

"Hello? Is that Dr Carli-"

I think even the people on platform nine heard Carlisle as he interrupted the ticket agent.

**Emmett POV**

Rosie and I sped up the driveway and straight through the open front door without missing a beat. Everyone was assembled in the living area and we reached a standstill just in time to watch a livid Carlisle scream down the 'phone at some poor sumbitch.

"That is my daughter standing in front of you looking like shit. She looks like shit because she was attacked this morning. If you don't process her payment and give her her train ticket right the fuck now so she can come home, I am going to buy the company you work for, in its entirety, with the sole fucking purpose of firing you and making sure you never work again. Are we fucking clear?!"

I took a step forward and caught Jazz's eye.

"Dude. What daaaa fuck did we miss?"

**~Sin~**

**Very nervous about how well received Alistair's POV will be. Please let me know if you liked or disliked it. It was difficult finding how to go about it exactly, and this was the closest I could make it to how it was in my head, but if too many of you are unhappy with it I shall try and find another way to get his dual nature across (which is as much as I can say about what's going on inside that thick head of his for now). It was also a bit on the long side, but it would have had to have been broken up to shorten it and it all happened before the timeline of Bella reaching Sophie. There will be many liberties taken with the order of time by another character later on so I didn't want to push my luck. As always, helpful criticism, even just pointing out typos, is just as valuable as positive comments.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Fuil 'o mo chuislean**

**Enormous thanks to each and every one of you who have reviewed; I am, as always, in awe of your kind words and the time you spend to give them. I see a lot of you enjoyed Carlisle****'s badassery coming out a bit. I do too! For those who expressed concern, Alistair is not a wolf. I'm not overly keen on the wolves at all and I don't have any plans for them to play much of a part in the story. If that changes, their part probably won't be as good guys.**

**I adore travelling by train but have never gone First Class so all of the high class trimmings are products of my imagination and a lot of old Agatha Christie type films (for me, all trains should be like the Orient Express, elegant, beautiful, with private cabins, dining cars and every luxurious thing you can think of). I have no idea if it actually does work like this or if there are even cabin trains still in general use or not. But this is a pretty AU story, so why not better service, too? ;) **

**I think we can agree at this point that any predictions I make about how often I'll be updating are way off as I****'m finding very little time to write. I apologise for that, and will understand if I lose the patience of some of my readers, but **_**thank you**_** for staying at least this far.**

**I have been and continue to be unsure how wise it is to continue this story; it****'s basically a Twilighted version of major parts of my original novel and having seen some instances of plagiarism on the site it may be a dumbass move on my part. I think I either need to change the direction, impacting Alistair's nature, or discontinue the story. No decision reached either way yet, though, and I won't abandon it without letting anyone know.**

**This chapter is fairly short and unexciting, but I want to get back into the swing of things and hope I can have something of a better length for you sooner rather than later. On a critical note, I think I****'m using too much description, telling too much rather than showing, and am trying to fix that, but any pointers are welcome.**

**Chapter Six**

_Baby I need a friend,_

_But I'm a vampire smile; you'll meet a sticky end._

_I'm here trying not to bite your neck,_

_But it's beautiful and I'm gonna get_

_so drunk on you and kill your friends..._

Kyla La Grange - Vampire smile

**Bella POV**

I nervously kept my eyes away from the flushed cheeks of the ticket agent as he handed me my First Class ticket and Carlisle's credit card. I turned my head in surprise, though, as a hand was laid gently on my backpack. It belonged to a young man in a uniform. I was too tired to shrug his hand off, but wondered what he was doing. The ticket agent spoke, solving that mystery for me.

"Simon, this young lady is a client of the highest priority. Please make sure that she reaches her berth on the train about to depart platform nine and that she has everything she needs." To his credit, the man showed no outward animosity toward me as a result of Carlisle's end of the phone call. The young man nodded and turned to me with a small movement of the hand touching my backpack.

"May I take this for you?" His voice was so kind that I suddenly found that I had to swallow back a lump in my throat.

"Uh, that's OK, I can carry it." I wasn't used to being waited on like this. After three years of having to find and often fight for my own warmth and shelter, carrying my own belongings seemed inconsequential to say the least.

"I understand, Miss. All the same, please allow me," he said with such a sincere and charming smile that I couldn't help but stutter out a thank you. I let the strap slip from my shoulder and into his waiting hand. "If you'd follow me please, Miss, I'll show you to your seat. We'll be departing shortly." He kept an eye on my gait for the first few metres and adjusted his own so that he was neither holding me up nor leaving me behind. Another small kindness that only increased the vulnerable feeling in my chest that was sending little tremors out across my shoulders.

I was surprised to find myself being led through a plush waiting area instead of the route to the platform shown on the overhead signs. We arrived much sooner than we would have had we taken the alternate route, I thought. I was glad of it; my legs were almost numb with fatigue and my feet were lumps of lead. I felt the weight of my owns hands tugging at my wrists and shoulders, suddenly glad to have been relieved of the burden of my backpack for even a short time. I saw slight indignation on the faces of several well dressed people as I was led past and in front of them to board the train carriage. My mind noted in passing that the train I was boarding was something I would have expected to see in a British period movie, not waiting at a train platform in the present day.

I was also not met with the familiar double row of seating I had expected. The slim, empty corridor ran on one side of the carriage only, was wood panelled and smelled of beeswax. The frames of the panels and windows were not ornate, but they were tooled in a very pleasing way, and the beautiful sliding windows were quaint and well made. If I hadn't been nerve wracked and stumbling along well past the point of exhaustion, I might have given in to the urge to lean out one of those windows and wave a handkerchief in farewell. The carriage was not so much old as it was simply luxurious in the style of a previous era, with more care given to quality and appearance than to materials that would have been cheaper and more easily maintained. The young man stopped at a deeply polished, windowless wooden door, which he opened with a small brass key.

"Your berth, Miss." He motioned to the open door with one arm, encouraging me to step inside. I did, and was struck speechless. I had been led not to a first class seat but to a private cabin. The last place I had rested had been a bench with a plank missing, from which I had been unceremoniously dragged by one arm. I had no idea how to feel about these new surroundings and the steward graciously did not comment on my obvious ambivalence. He smiled and nodded his head. My hand opened and closed automatically around the small key he passed to me. My body had some very definite ideas about relaxing in luxury even though my mind was still reeling.

I was left to my swirling thoughts as he exited quietly through the small door and closed it behind him. My eyes went to the soft looking seating time and time again, but I knew that if I sat I wouldn't be able to get up again any time soon. I was still being pursued, and Alice had made it clear just how closely. I walked to the window instead, edging my body to the side so that only my eyes peered out. My fingertips found the smooth grain of the wooden frame, partly to feel something solid, and partly just to hold me upright. I monitored the slowing of my pulse as it throbbed gently in the ear I pressed to the cool, wallpapered carriage hull. I leaned my whole cheek into it, finding something comforting in the gesture. I would rest once we'd left the station and that would be soon, judging by the greatly shortened queue of people alighting on the train's other carriages.

The last people to board were an older, elegantly dressed couple who had stood arguing heatedly on the platform for several minutes. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but inferred from their body language that their tickets were missing, that the elderly gentleman thought his wife had packed them, that she had quite obviously told him several times to pick them up and wasn't he a twit for not doing so. This was followed by some angry arm waving and red-facedness on the man's part, and him trying to stuff his glasses decisively in his shirt pocket, only to find their train tickets. It ended with some very apologetic hand gestures and what I thought could have been promises of a trip to Venice and as much gelato as she could eat. I made that last part up but if someone were apologising to me like that I sure as hell would want gondola rides and gelato in recompense.

The vibration of the engine straining to pull the train's mass away from the platform caused the most horrendous pins and needles in my tired leg muscles. I leant my forehead against a brass plate on the wall until they passed, semi-pleasant goosebumps erupting down both arms at the coolness of the metal. The carriages swayed and creaked and thumped as we went through the short, dark tunnel that bridged the space between the station and the town, emerging into watery sunlight. My breath was misting on the glass for some minutes before it eventually registered that I could relax, at least for now.

I felt a kind of adoration for the soft cushions that met my backside that I'd previously reserved only for Edward. Maybe a little more; sitting on his lap had been more exciting but a lot less comfortable. It wasn't the kind of couch that swallowed you up but it was a damn sight softer than sidewalks and park benches. The only downside was that leaning back and relaxing brought into sharp relief every ache and pang and twinge of my poor, misused body. My ears and nose were in the enviable position of being the only parts of me that didn't hurt. I tilted my head back, my neck softly supported, and stared at the ornate light on the ceiling while quiet tears ran backwards from my cheeks. They pooled in my ears, tickling, but I didn't have the energy to wipe them away. At some point, my eyes closed of their own accord.

**Jasper POV**

"Bella." It only took that one word to put a huge grin on Emmett's face. But it disappeared the moment he remembered Carlisle screaming down the phone that she had been attacked. I felt the precise moment that that realisation hit him, as the brief but intense relief and excitement turned into worry and dread.

"What happened, Jazz? Is she OK?" He pulled a visibly worried Rose into his side, her arms wrapping around him while her eyes remained locked with mine.

"She's alive but…well you know Bella. Danger magnet." I wiped a hand across my face, suddenly feeling tired for the first time in centuries.

"Did we find her or did she finally contact us?" asked Rose.

"A little of both. And not a moment too soon. We've been worried about Victoria this whole time. Turns out that wasn't even close to the mark."

"Where is she?" Rose was vacillating between worry and curiosity, but worry was winning by miles.

"Scotland, but hopefully leaving it very fucking quickly."

"Why?"

"I think we need some, scratch that, a lot more information from Carlisle on that score. I can hear him loading some pretty heavy tomes in one of the cars so I imagine we'll get it. But it sounds like Bella might have attracted the attention of someone a lot worse than Victoria. Hell, a lot worse than the Volturi."

"Shit. Aside from your sire, what the hell is worse than the Volturi?" Emmett interjected. Rose hissed angrily at the mention of the vampire who created me.

"It's not Maria, Rose. But I don't know yet if that's a good thing or not. At least Maria would have been a known variable. Bella would have been in deep shit, but it would have been deep, predictable shit."

Alice chose that moment to glide to my side, her fingers wrapping between mine, her head tilted just enough to keep an eye on my expression as well as Emmett and Rose.

"Jazz, I'm not getting clarity as often as I should with the glimpses I'm getting of Bella. I thought at first something was just interfering with them, like static, maybe down to Bella's potential shield getting a little stronger. But it's not that. Whatever it is, it's making me feel almost disobedient for looking for the visions. I feel like I'm trying to sneak into the movie theatre with no ticket and about to be caught red-handed." Her gaze shifted uneasily. "I think there's something I'm not supposed to see. But according to whom, or whose rules?"

I pulled her closer, tucking her head under my chin. If she was uneasy, so was I, and I didn't like that feeling following so close on the heels of our collective panic. Interrupting my inner musings, Carlisle's voice carried clearly up the stairs.

"The jet's being prepped and will be ready by the time we get there. We need to go now if we're to have any chance of catching up with Bella." The 'before Alistair does' was left unsaid.

Alice and I followed Emmett and Rose swiftly downstairs and out to the front of the house, where Carlisle and Esme had three of our cars waiting. We exchanged last glances before buckling up and peeling out of the driveway. Apart from the low purr of high-end engines, ours was a mostly silent convoy, all three cars keeping perfect distance and speed with each other as they rolled smoothly away from Forks. The six of us were mute also, although our proximity would have allowed easy conversation. It was simply that nothing about this was easy. We were used to being able to handle all things quickly and with little risk so this was new to all of us.

**Alistair POV**

The station was crowded and humid. A train conductor thought better of putting out his hand to see if I had a ticket, the fingers of his other hand automatically pushing the button to open the gate as he turned his face away, his cheeks colouring a little. He shouldn't feel shame for being afraid; it was the smartest thing he'd do all day.

_Hurry._

"What do ye think I'm doing, ye great oaf? If I move any faster the humans will ken I'm something nae right."

_Fine. Dawdle faster then, for the love of god._

"Which one?"

_I dinnae care!_

"Alright, keep yer britches on, I'm almost there."

Warm bodies unconsciously parted and closed around me, not wanting to touch me even by accident. Their voices dropped low and hushed as I waded through them, rising again immediately afterwards. I was used to this, being carried through people in the soundless trough of a great wave, my presence in their brief reality firmly denied. They wouldn't remember me even if shown a recording, which is no small good fortune for them. I always remembered them, though, and the feeling of their misty breath condensating on my cool skin. Strange, how walking through people without caring could be so intimate.

_It__'s called loneliness. In case you were wondering. I dinnae feel it, as I have you, but you…_

"If I had been, do ye think it'd be you that I asked?"

The scent hung so rich in the air now it almost seemed a prehensile tendril that wound out in front of me with purpose. I wasn't aware of having been afflicted with any kind of synaesthesia in my first life or in this one, but every part of me was becoming more convinced by the second that just a little stronger and it might shimmer visibly like heat haze.

Some of this intensity must have been evident in my manner. The hurrying humans pressed closer to the opposite wall as I trudged quickly through an underground pedestrian tunnel that linked the platforms on the farther side of the station. They averted their eyes, all but one. A small boy carrying a toy car in one hand and one of his own shoes in the other hushed his happy chatter and stared at me with wide eyes. His small mouth moved once, I thought in greeting, before his arm was yanked by his mother who, having gotten a look at me out of the corner of her eye, rightly flinched from me and diverted his attention.

I still had not laid eyes on my quarry but was being pulled along so forcefully that I was no longer worried that it would escape me. I worried instead that I would somehow disappoint the object of my pursuit. That had not happened before. But then, nor had I ever found blood that sang to me before. Perhaps this was the way of it, that I would feel the weight of expectation. Would I be the perfect killer for them, would I live up to whatever anticipation one might have of an angel of death? What if I fell short? What is I was found wanting?

_Aye. The female of the species has always had that effect on us, laddie._

"She's no my species. Why would I care either way?"

_A more interesting question would be, why would she?_

"As always ye make nae sense! Hush yer yapping. I'm trying to be sneaky."

I slowed as I stepped out onto one of the station platforms. The light was brighter here, with patches of sunlight, and I needed more caution than haste. The scent ended at one of the carriages not far from where it disappeared under the dark tunnel that separated the self-contained world of the station from the one outside. Several windows down, in a strangely absent concentration of itself, the scent was muffled by and behind a closed window. I slouched toward the mouth of the tunnel, approaching the side of the carriage behind the window.

_So near and yet so far__…_

I said nothing, merely brushed the backs of my knuckles across the metal of the carriage hull, sensing warmth pressed against it from the inside. The urge to lean closer was heady. If I were to take one step forwards, I would be face to face with my singer. Would it know me, would I see that knowledge in wide eyes, blue or brown or green? Would I lose control and take it into myself with no thought for witnesses?

_Once you see her, there is no going back, and even I could not control what happened next._

"I'm no a child. I dinnae need to be supervised."

_Both of those statements are debatable at best._

The hum of the engine warned me of impending departure and the window moved towards me and the tunnel. Separation and discovery were equally unthinkable, so I slipped quickly toward the mouth the short tunnel. Once in shadow, I braced my feet against tunnel wall and metal to hop lightly to the top of the carriage as it started moving, only a soft thud betraying my landing on the roof.

I lay quickly on my back; a man my size can't be too careful in tunnels, where an errant wooden beam or spur of rock could easily relieve me of my head. My head was at times a confusing place, but I still preferred it to stay where it was. Spreadeagled as I now was, my only option was to revisit the past as the carriages picked up momentum for the journey, wherever it would take us.

**Jasper POV**

We were only three miles from the airport when Alice stiffened in her seat, eyelids fluttering. I held up a hand and all three cars as one pulled down a sidestreet and came to a halt. She only felt puzzled, which comforted me a great deal. I slipped my fingers through hers, squeezing just enough to let her know that I was, as ever, here in the real world, grounding her while she struggled in another, one of many I would never see. Her strong, slim fingers curled around mine out of long habit before she turned to me with determination rolling off her in waves.

"Jazz, we need Edward. He _has_ to be there, too."


	7. Chapter 7

**Fuil 'o mo chuislean**

**I'm so glad you liked the last chapter; thank you for your kind reviews! I'm probably more shocked than you at how quickly this next chapter is up. I've decided to take Alistair's nature in a slightly different direction than I had intended so that I can protect my original writing and keep posting this story. For the purposes of this story, by the present day Marcus will have been pining for Didyme for a couple hundred years not a thousand.**

**Chapter Seven**

_I twisted you over and under to take you,__  
><em>_The coals went so wild as they swallowed the rest.__  
><em>_I twisted you under and under to break you,__  
><em>_I just couldn't breathe with your throne on my chest._

Neko Case - Furnace room lullaby

**Alistair POV**

This was my first train ride. It was proving illuminating to say the least, and not nearly as fast as I'd assumed a modern form of transportation would be. But the steam that blew across my face, greatly dissipated by the time it reached me, explained the leisurely pace at which we travelled. It also gave me a strange sense of hope; surely the speed hinted at a lack of desire to escape on the part of my prey. I couldn't hear her at the moment as she lay just over three carriages away, but I could hear the passengers in the car on which I lay. An old couple who'd been bickering on the platform were now engaged in a contest of breathy hmmmphs and loud sniffs; the lady was still winning. Others were discussing whether or not to head to the dining car, which I hoped they would, as it made things quieter for me. I am not a fucking people person. I envy humans one thing, that their meals don't converse. When you're as asocial as I am, even with my own kind, human speech and searing thirst are an irritating combination. But as I couldn't take myself away to a rocky crag or grassy valley to get away from the chatter, I took myself to another time instead.

**_24th November, 1744. Volterra, Italy._**

_Mairie and I had journeyed a long way to be blessed at this small church. Our late great uncle Andrew had been a monk here many years ago. As he told it to me when I was a wee lad on his knee, the group he was travelling with had stopped to rest their horses and mules and to barter for food in this small town, as it had been then. He'd taken one look at the rolling hills that surrounded the place and refused to travel any farther. For a foreigner with no grasp of Italian, he'd proven highly adept at garnering donations from the townsfolk to build a new place of worship. _

_It had been my father's wish that we come here to receive the blessing of the church. Him being a Papist married to a Protestant woman, he'd had to hide his Catholic ways his whole life. But he would not brook his children travelling any further into adulthood without the sanction of both God and his emissary here on Earth. That was the public story, but I knew that this pilgrimage was in part his way of dealing with my introduction to, by way of the blacksmith, the old gods. Try as I might, I could not get my father to understand that it was simply superstition that made the man bless his fire and tools with strange names and ancient words. I had very little time for the god we'd had rammed down our throats at home and kirk since we were old enough to talk, let alone ones whose names I could barely pronounce and who required pigs feet for dinner. That's just…untidy._

_The people here smiled and touched more than at home in Scotland. I'd almost drawn my dirk today, the first time a man had kissed my cheek in greeting. He'd laughed easily at my affront and simply ignored it, greeting Mairie in the same fashion, but held onto her hand just a fraction longer than I, the glowering older brother, deemed necessary. His wife had caught my eye and rolled hers in a gesture of lifelong understanding. She was wed to a man who appreciated a beautiful girl but saw no reason to worry. I in turn appreciated her dark eyed, languid beauty and understood why. Any man would have been an idiot not to add a prayer of thankfulness for such a wife whenever he passed the statue of the Virgin Mary._

_Mairie had laughed and tossed her golden hair, taking no offence but sensitive of mine. Her look spoke volumes. Of an age at which many girls would think of marriage, her quick eyes had missed nothing in the exchange and I knew that I had no need to worry; she would settle for nothing less than this kind of husbandly devotion in whomever she chose as her own. I know that my expression told her plainly in return that if she found one who did not treat her as I felt she deserved, I'd have no qualms about dumping him down a well with a knife in his back. She smirked, I smiled, and we allowed the husband and wife to usher us into the small church to meet their priest._

_I didn't understand a great deal of what went on before and during the blessing, only that the priest had a smile like a snake despite carrying the kind of fleshy rotundity that usually accompanied a jolly, generous disposition. Mairie seemed to like him as much as I did, using the wine to chase the wafer down before her repulsion got the best of her. It would have dishonoured our parents to have spit it out simply for having been touched by him but it was a close call all the same._

_The brevity of the blessing was, well, a blessing. I had not thought to enquire prior to our arrival what it would entail, but I had imagined days of fasting, perhaps, or lying on cold stone floors to purge ourselves of sin as we'd had to do several times at home for various misdemeanours. It occurred to me then that the stone floors may have been my father's idea. There's nothing will curb a young lad's enthusiasm for village girls better than knowing that breaching the no touching rule would result in his softer parts being plastered against freezing Scottish granite for hours on end._

_At a loss as to how we should feel now that we were accepted into the Catholic church, we exited the sanctity of its doors with no notion how to spend our time. We had lodgings at an inn, but many hours until nightfall. I wish to this day I had refused Mairie's request to explore the beautiful, larger building that dwarfed the church int he town square. I was even warned against it, but youthful ignorance is excellent at ignoring warnings, as mine was that day._

_Any street corner anywhere could sport an old woman selling something in this country. This town was no different, but the old woman was. She didn't want to sell us anything but words. I didn't understand most of them, but Gaelic and Romany have common roots in a handful of words, and I wondered why she muttered something like 'give strength' as her bony fingers clutched my arm briefly. I'd given her a coin I didn't understand the value of and wished her a good day. She had just looked at it sadly and shaken her head as she wobbled away on tired feet, no doubt to warn someone else. I wonder if anyone ever listened to her. Mairie tugged insistently on my plaid and all but towed me through the grand archway under the clock tower into a stone cobbled passageway._

_I soon noticed that others also strolled along the corridor, stopping to look at this carving and that relief. They were exquisite, I had to give them that. Mairie oohed and aahed at the intricate details hundreds of years old, some pristine, some crumbling a little around the edges. I was oohing and aahing internally at the others walking by; they were all beautiful beyond compare, and I wondered if the archway had been the entrance to a faery realm. A willowy blonde joined Mairie and I on silent feet, gliding into our sphere of conversation with ease._

"_You are newcomers to our beautiful country, I can tell." Her smile had been warm and I'd felt surprised to have been put so at ease by a stranger._

"_We are that, lady. Alistair Mackenzie at your service, and this is my sister, Mairie Mackenzie." I bowed slightly, as yet unsure of the more tactile Italian greeting I'd been subject to just earlier._

"_I'm so happy to meet both of you." She dipped in a little curtsy to us and giggled. "I'm not a native here but have been here so long it feels like home. But I can't tell you how refreshing it is to meet someone else for whom English is a mother tongue. I'm Heidi, and would be honoured to show you the castle." Her smile was like the sun._

_I'd not been tongue-tied like this since I was twelve and the village floozy had offered to show me her honeypot, only this time I managed not to mumble redfaced excuses and run in the opposite direction. Mairie was bouncing on the balls of her feet in excitement so I simply shrugged and smiled, happy to do whatever made her happy. And doing it in the company of the most beautiful woman I'd ever seen, and who seemed equally excited to meet us, would be no hardship._

_Heidi clapped her hands and fell in step beside us, slipping her arm through Mairie's and chirping in Italian to the guards at two enormous, carved wooden doors who bowed respectfully and pulled them open for us._

_She mentioned that we may meet the three kings, brothers she said, if they were currently in residence. Mairie and I were no strangers to life at court, it was something fairly normal to us. This didn't speak so much of our importance, although as heir to Chieftain of the Clan Mackenzie I understood that my future was important even if I wasn't, but of the boredom of royalty._

_It was my belief that sovereigns paid more attention to the gossiping and petty squabbles than they would have us think, for how better to be entertained than at the expense of those around and beneath them. Court life at Castle Leod was less formal, or at least less opulent, but there wasn't a man, woman or child in the clan who did not know to bend their knee at sight of their Chief. My uncle had no sons nor daughters, so his duty would pass to me when he saw fit, which likely would mean only when he saw fit to die, tight-fisted bastard that he was._

_I mentally checked that my appearance was in keeping with meeting such distinguished hosts, plaid fastened, sporran clean, hair…well that was a mite unkempt I thought. _

"_Scruffy beggar." Mairie apparently agreed with me and I felt her nimble fingers dragging it into a formal queue as we walked and fastening a piece of her ribbon around it, one of many things that have always left me highly sceptical of the mental state of men who claim to not need a woman. We are untidy creatures and quite frankly do a horrible job of looking after anything less immediate than sword and steed, ourselves included._

_As we entered a huge, ornate chamber, my eyes were drawn upward to the high, domed ceiling. It wasn't bedecked with winged cherubs but with gargoyles and penitents and I felt an urge to kneel. Such a thing would not befit a future chieftain but it drew some effort to withstand. The three figures on thrones were engaged in idle conversation with their female companions so low in volume that I could hear nothing yet this silent discourse came to a conspicuous end as they, as one, turned their heads to look at us. _

_My mind assessed all three kings in less than a second; the jovial, dark haired lord wielded the power, the fair, miserly looking one wanted it, and the serenely happy figure with long, brown locks to match his tall body could have it any time he chose but had no desire for it. The queens would have a hierarchy among themselves, but I felt ill equipped to make its estimate in the same way; as my mother had told me often, if you do not know a woman's mind, don't earn her enmity with assumptions._

_One of the queens, hair like coal and skin like milk, seemed to be the focus of the brown haired king's happy gaze. Another, not yet twenty with skin like chestnuts and a neck like the stem of an arum lily was the polar opposite of her husband. Her close cropped black curls offered a unique balance to his long, white mane. I'd met many races at the docks of our coastal cities, some passengers, some slaves, others traders or deckhands; if she wasn't Ethiopian royalty I was a haddock. The king who grinned the widest was paired with the queen who smiled the least. She was almost ordinary in her brunette colouring next to the other two but her high cheekbones told me that her ancestors were of pure Magyar blood and her tilted cat's eyes were sharp and intelligent._

"_My lords, my ladies." I bowed deeply and felt Mairie dip beside me. "Alistair MacKenzie of the Clan MacKenzie and my sister Mairie. We're honoured by your hospitality. I hope we do not intrude."_

"_Nothing could be further from the truth." The raven haired beauty at the side of the tall king seemed genuinely pleased by the appearance of guests. "We'd heard that two of Father Andrew's relatives were visiting our city but had not dreamed we would be so lucky as to meet them. You are both welcome here and it is our privilege as your hosts to offer you anything you should need. This city would not exist as it does today were it not for your great uncle's endeavour in building the church."_

_The jovial king and his serious, brown haired queen nodded vigorously in agreement and her hand dropped from his arm as he stepped forward. The other two were paying less attention now as the fair haired king appeared to have a headache; it must have been painful because his eyes were pressed shut behind his clenched fist and his wife was holding him quite firmly._

"_I am Aro Volturi," said the dark haired king, greeting both of us in the tactile, Italian way of kissing cheeks and clasping shoulders, pulling away with a delighted smile. "And as my sister says you are most welcome. I do have some matters of state to attend to with my brother, Caius, but Marcus and the lovely Didyme I'm sure would be glad of a chance to show you our library. I seem to remember that the many documents created by your great uncle were stored with us some years ago when the church roof was being repaired and never found their way back again. I imagine my wife Sulpicia and Caius' wife Athenodora would be equally eager to show off their efforts in the palace gardens to your sister, if she has interest in such things. Ah! I see by her smile that she would indeed."_

_I turned to look at my sister and was bathed in the radiance of her smile. I couldn't stop my own grin and squeezed her fingers gently; no brother could help but be proud that his sister not only comported herself perfectly in such a situation but was deemed company for queens. As always, anything that might make her life richer or happier in any way was something I could not deny her._

"_We accept your kind invitations. I have very few keepsakes of my great uncle and to browse some of his writings would be a pleasure indeed."_

_I had time to notice that Marcus' expression changed dramatically when I held Mairie's hand. He was looking between us with a kind of wonder, eyes moving from me to Mairie and back again. I wondered what he could see. But before I could ask I felt the large doors open behind us again and felt the draught as the Tuscan wind blew into the chamber. Marcus' face fell in shock. He held up a hand as if to stop someone; I didn't see who until I turned to Mairie to find the light haired king no longer on his throne but beside us, beside her, kissing her neck while a large group of courtiers and guards filed through the doors behind us._

"_Caius, no!" I assumed Marcus was simply as shocked as I was at this hideous impropriety. I took a step forward in anger, I may be but a Laird-to-be but king or not, no man treated my sister like a common trollop. The king's arm felt strange under my hand but I thought little of it until after I had removed him from my sister._

"_Caius, what have you done?" I had never heard a king whisper._

_All my thoughts stopped as the pale king turned to face me, his expression jubilant and a trickle of my sister's blood at the corner of his mouth. Mairie's form slid down his body to crumple on the floor and my world ended. I could have touched her to find a heartbeat, taken her into my arms to see if her chest still rose and fell. If it hadn't been for her eyes I would have done both of those things. They were wide open and the colour was obliterated by the large black pupils, full and unmoving._

~pulse~

_There'd be moments of our childhood together that I'd remember later, happier ones, but right then every part of me cried out for the little girl who'd wept bitterly when she had to kill a rabbit for supper for the first time, again when our baby brother was born dead, every time our father had to shoot one of the horses as they grew old. I'd held her every time and every one of her tears had cut at my heart like a blade. I wished that I had counted them._

~twist~

_It felt like something infinitely personal had been torn out of me. My body stood motionless for eight seconds in the throne room of an Italian palace; my soul spent a thousand years in hell without her._

~I give you strength~

_Why did I hear the words of the old woman again? And how did I now understand them? I looked down and saw my fists clench and the tendons in my wrists snap taut._

~pulse~

_I felt like I was boiling. That was the only way I could process the feeling of my muscles churning beneath my skin. I felt the hair on the back of my neck stand up and my lips peel away from my teeth in a snarl. Did they do something to me, too? Was I dying?_

~snap~

_I didn't see red. They always say you see red in anger. I didn't. It was a white thing, this rage, and I gave myself to it._

~I give you strength. Protect her.~

_I wish I had understood the old gypsy's words sooner. Perhaps things would have turned out differently. The last thing I heard was the screeching of metal before I was lost in the snowstorm of someone else's mind._


	8. Chapter 8

**Fuil 'o mo chuislean**

**Copyright****© D. A. Bathory 2014 **

**Twilight characters and universe are not mine, but the original characters, storyline and wording are mine.**

**Once again, thank you for your phenomenal reviews :) I'm only sorry that I didn't have the time to respond to them all individually. As annoying as it probably is that I don't update often, they mean the world to me and I'm grateful for every single one and for each of you. The last chapter was a bit of a departure from the previous chapters but I'm glad that you enjoyed it; I think some Alistair chunks may have to be that big to catch things up to present day but that's not exactly a terrible thing as he is an awesome dude and I like getting into his mindset.**

**Chapter Eight**

_The past and the chase  
>You hunted me down<br>Like a wolf, a predator  
>I felt like a deer in love lights<em>

**David Guetta - She wolf**

**Bella POV**

When I woke up this time it felt different. I was in relative safety and comfort and it felt odd. Good, but odd. I stretched my limbs and felt joints pop as I moved over to the window. The countryside was passing by slowly and I took a moment to enjoy its spectacular beauty before realising that, as slowly as we were moving, Alistair would have no trouble keeping up with us. I scanned left and right, but saw no sign of him or of anything wrong at all. It was only then that true relief settled into my insides and my body relaxed.

To say I didn't know what to do with myself now would be an understatement. I fired off a text to Alice, letting her and the others know that I made it safely onto the train and didn't appear to be being followed. Her reply was enough to calm my jitters just a little but it didn't do much to raise my low spirits.

I felt almost crushed by the sudden awareness of my own loneliness, more so now than I ever had felt while I was truly alone. It's the nature of the human heart, I think, to learn to live with whatever state in which it finds itself for any period of time. But when reminded what it's lost or gone without, it does a thorough job of punishing you for depriving it of what it wanted all along. The question wasn't would my family forgive me, but could they?

It was probably an ignorant question that I should know better than to ask. As a counterpoint to or result of their necessary secrecy in their interactions with the rest of the world, they were unremittingly honest with each other. Never cruelly, but always fully. It would be too obvious to think that Rose would be the one who would have the most trouble trusting me again. Esme, I thought, would have been hurt the most, and I didn't look forward to facing her at all. She would always love me, and always show it, but tough love was very much a part of her emotional vocabulary and I was past due for some, I knew.

I was sulking and I knew it. But I figured if I allowed myself a little self pity until I met up with the others South of the border, no-one would be any the wiser. Well, except Alice, but if she happened to see me kick my backpack across the small cabin in a fit of pique, she'd likely not tell anyone about it. So I did. It felt childish but also better and I could definitely use a little better. Time to explore the cabin before I started feeling an urge to poke my tongue out at someone.

There were two doors close together. I felt like Sarah in the Labyrinth; which one would lead to an oubliette? As it turned out, neither; one opened onto a tiny but beautiful bathroom and the other onto a set of well made bunk beds. The bathroom had no bath but the shower looked like a potential new best friend and the small toilet was a far cry from squatting in bushes. A quick sniff of myself made trying to choose which one to use first a moot point. Shower it was.

I stripped quickly and rootled around in the small drawer under the sink, finding miniature bottles of bodywash and shampoo for me and my hair, a luxury after years of public toilet handsoap. The prospect of enjoying both hot water and a complete lack of psychopaths at the same time felt positively decadent.

I adjusted the water until it was almost too hot to touch, then stepped under it, dumping my clothes at my feet. I dribbled some of the bodywash on them and trod up and down on them absently while I let the scalding water relax and clean parts of me I'd tended to forget about for weeks at a time in my years on the run. Crossing my arms in front of me and allowing a large pool of water to accumulate before dumping it in on my feet in a big sploosh was the most therapeutic part of the entire process. I hadn't done that since I was little but didn't feel at all silly for doing it now.

I didn't stay under the water for long as I assumed that it was a precious commodity aboard a moving vehicle, even one this large. But it was long enough to make me begin to feel a little more like myself. Or rather, more like there might be a Bella left under the hard shell I'd had to grow while I fended for myself. I wasn't sure I or anyone else was going to like her much, but just knowing she might still be there was a big enough epiphany for now.

I wrung out my sopping clothes and hung them on the open window, laughing as my panties went whistling off into the wind. I only hoped they didn't decide to greet any of the other passengers by affixing themselves to a window on their way past the next carriage. I'd had an idea of making my way to the dining car in fresh(ish) clothes until I opened my backpack. The meat pie I'd accidentally smooshed earlier while looking for the credit card had made a dramatic and fragrant statement along the leg of my only other pair of jeans, although thankfully my sweaters remained unmolested. The jeans were quickly washed and added to the others drying at the window.

So, my choices for now were stay here and hungry or introduce myself to the serving staff in the dining car as Bella No-pants and enquire demurely about the chicken chasseur. Decisions, decisions.

Or…there was a small bell to call for room service; perhaps they would have something in lost and found that I could at least cover myself with in order to eat in the dining car. I rang it waited quietly for a response. Swift footsteps preceded a firm knock on the cabin door. I opened it a crack to find the same young steward from earlier.

"Simon, I hope you can help me. I'm…uh…oh man, this is so embarrassing. I don't have any clothes and I need to go to the dining car. You wouldn't have anything hanging around in lost and found that I could…um…borrow, would you?" I could feel a lovely shade of red creeping up my face from bottom to top. He kindly pretended not to notice my discomfort and smiled reassuringly instead.

"We don't keep lost and found items on the train, Miss, but there is a small boutique. I'd be happy to bring you a selection of items for you to try on, or perhaps a female member of staff might make you more comfortable?"

"That's OK, I figure the fewer people who know the better." I felt slightly defeated but hopeful as well. All these small kindnesses were chipping away little by little at the walls between my feelings and the rest of the world.

"I'll be back in just a few minutes, Miss. What size do you require?"

"Oh. Wow. A four in US but I haven't been able to buy anything for years…I mean since I…I'm sorry…I just…I don't know." I swallowed noisily, really not wanting to feel as stupid and exposed as I currently did. "And that was a while ago. I haven't been able to…uh…eat well. So maybe a two right now?"

"Don't worry, the lady who runs the boutique will have no problems. I'll be back shortly." He drew the door closed and I heard his footsteps growing fainter.

While I waited for him to return, a quick rummage in an overheard cupboard resulted in the bounty of a soft blanket. I may have very little dignity left at the present moment, but I would be warm and undignified, damnit. I sat on the couch, combing my fingers through my wet hair. My hairbrush was one of the things that had liberated itself from my bag in my fight with Da or at the ticket counter. I let my mind wander back to the day I decided to run, my fingers still working mindlessly through the tangles having a calming effect.

_I'd half expected this call, or at least one like it. The only thing is, I'd expected it to be Aro's voice that I heard, matching the elegant script of the note I held in one trembling hand and that had arrived, or appeared, in an envelope totally unmarked apart from my name. Instead, I heard Marcus' mellow tones._

"_They left you, didn't they?" It was a rhetorical question that I didn't have the nerve to answer aloud anyway, so I said nothing. "You are already aware of the punishment for knowledge of our world, Bella, so I need not bore you with threats, idle or otherwise. And believe me, they would be otherwise."_

"_Am I…do I have time to say goodbye to my father? Not literally, I know, but to see him one last time?" They were coming to kill me, but I had the feeling that I would somehow still miss Charlie even after I was gone._

"_I'm afraid not. Nor may you communicate with the Cullens in any way. The guards will be there in mere minutes to collect you. You should use those minutes to pack anything you wish to bring with you." His voice wasn't unkind, but it brooked no argument. I was confused, though._

"_Collect me? Aren't they going to kill me here?" The small chuckle he gave should have made me feel more at ease. It had the opposite effect. My stomach relocated somewhere around ground level._

"_You are too powerful a gift to kill, Bella. For that I am sorry, for I know something of how it feels to be held in this place when you wish nothing but to leave it. No, you will be brought here and added to the guard. Aro's express command is not something one disagrees with, at least not openly. Or successfully."_

_I bit back a sob at his words and replaced the phone with shaking hands. All I could do was be ready when they arrived so that they stayed the shortest length of time possible, thereby posing the least amount of danger to Charlie. I doubted he would show up unexpectedly in the next five minutes but eternity was a long time to be unable to forgive myself, so best to be safe._

_My large travel bag was packed ready for my birthday trip with the Cullens and I emptied half of its contents into my backpack. I had no idea what kind of things I may or may not need in Italy or how long it would be before I was turned. I didn't even know if Marcus had been telling me the truth. Perhaps telling me that I was to receive what I had wanted last time they saw me was just their way of getting me to go with them without a fuss. With a steadily sinking and shrinking heart, I put Wuthering Heights back on my bookshelf. Whatever unlife I was to have now, I didn't want the reminder of happier times and beloved family, or the chance I was losing. For me, forever more, Cathy would be without Heathcliff._

_I heard a knock on the door and the next few moments swam past me in slow motion. The expected Volturi guards turned out to be Jake and Embry's smiling, and Paul's not so smiling, faces. Their wide grins turned to obvious anger as the Volturi guards glided out of the trees on silent feet._

_Five vampires against three wolves. It was a more impressive fight than it should have been, but the scales were too obviously tipped in the vampires' favour and the wolves were losing. Halfway through the tornado of flying limbs and ripping teeth, Jake's desperate bark sent Embry for reinforcements while his eyes sought mine in a plea. I don't know how I managed to light the match but as my childhood friend's lifeless body was sent careening against the still form of his packmate, I lit the remains of Alec and Demitri._

_I still don't know why Jane didn't kill me then and there, despite her orders. Maybe because her heart was as absent as mine after the death of her brother as mine was once I saw that Jake would not be getting up again. Maybe she never had one to begin with, but I don't think she would have been able to cause pain if she hadn't. Perhaps it was only her orders stopping her from ripping me apart, letting me live to be collected at a later date. She fled into the trees, leaving Felix and a guard I didn't know to turn and face the rest of the pack as they poured out of the forest._

_I ran then, in fright and shame, begging my truck for reserves it didn't have and finding them anyway. I'd never see my best friend imprint or become the father I knew he could have been. I'd never fight with Paul again or blush as he pointed out my ridiculousness. I'd never even get to see them buried, and deep down I knew I deserved even less than that._

_I left my truck on the side of the highway and stuck out my thumb, the first time of many. The vibration of the truck that was my first ride away from life and into fear felt much the same as the train I now found myself on. But at least this cabin was all mine and not strewn with nasty magazines and fast food wrappers._

Food. The thought brought me back to the present with a jerk, just in time to hear the steward knock on the door again. I wiped away tears and huffed at my memories. They could keep their feelings to themselves for now.

I opened the door just a sliver, enough to accept gratefully the small bundle of clothes pressed toward me.

"Put these on Miss, then I can bring in the rest." I nodded in thanks and closed the door again. Shuffling out of my blanket quickly I put on the thick pair of black leggings and red sweater, which reached a little way down my thighs. Feeling a lot more ready for company, I flung the door back open again and simply gawped. This must have been the desired effect because the steward laughed quietly and wheeled in the brass clothes rail about three feet long, the bar full of hangers, the footshelf piled with smaller items and several pairs of shoes. He parked it against the end of the couch and held out a large gift bag with silk rope handles and mysterious contents.

"The lady who runs the boutique asked me to give you these. She said they were a few things that a lady might need and that I wasn't to look. Take your time trying on the clothes, before or after you've eaten. Just ring the bell again when you've decided what you'd like to keep." I took the bag from him with a smile. It felt a little weird on my face but it was definitely the way forward.

He left quietly and I turned to the rail. I couldn't calm my thinking enough to investigate the contents of the bag yet, but a quick flip through the clothes hangers found me an outfit of black jeans and a long-sleeved cream t-shirt in a decadently silky feeling fabric that would make me feel a lot more comfortable about dining in public. Well, dining in public at a table. He'd had the presence of mind not to bring me anything overly girly, thankfully no high heels, but the cream ballet flats were a far cry from sneakers with holes that let the rain in.

I tousled my still damp hair and, remembering to pick up the small key, stepped into the hallway, heading for the dining car. An unobtrusive entrance had been the plan, but the number of heads that turned my way sunk that hope thoroughly. Instead I pulled on inner reserves of Rose and held my head up, the slightest smile curving my lips as I allowed myself to be lead to a table. If you can't be invisible, be blatant.

**Alistair POV**

_Why are ye holding those? They're nae yer colour._

"They're hers. As to why…I dinnae ken. Maybe a flag of truce. Could she be giving up?"

_Sniff them. Make sure they're hers._

"I'M NO SNIFFING THEM!"

_Why not?_

"It's indecent, ye blasted heathen. I ken very well they're hers; they flew out of her window and I can smell them well enough from here."

_Ye could ask her why she threw them at you._

"I'm no shoving my way into her cabin to ask about the sudden appearance of her underthings."

_Ye're behind as always; she's gone three cars down to eat. I know, I'll ask her!_

"Ye will not! We're supposed to be inconspicuous, or do ye no remember why in Hell we're travelling on the roof of a train with the wind in our nethers? I cannae think of many things less inconspicuous than a seven foot troll mincing about a dining carriage asking why someone threw their knickers at him!"

_All the same, I think I'd best check. Just for the sake of curiosity._

"Damn and blast ye, stop!"

My objections were far too late, probably before the conversation even started. The last thing I saw as every tendon and muscle in my body snapped rigid was my fist clenched around a scrap of light blue fabric. But that was quite an image to be going on with as my decidedly annoying and obstinate passenger took the reins and went looking for trouble. He'd find it; he always does.

* * *

><p><strong>Let me know what you think :) And thanks to the reader who helped me when I was stuck as to which POV to write from next. I took your advice and went with Bella's, and I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out.<strong>

**~Sin~**


	9. Chapter 9

**Fuil ****'o mo chuislean**

**Copyright© D. A. Bathory 2015**

**Twilight characters and universe are not mine, but the original characters, storyline and wording are mine.**

**Thank you for the phenomenal response to the last chapter, and apologies for the delay in getting the next one out as always. But! I have some homework for you, kinda. To get more in the mood for all things Scottish (am assuming you're already in the mood for all things Alistair. lol), I task you with going to youtube and looking up "Runrig - Abhainn an t'sluiagh". Runrig are a Scottish rock band who sing in Gaelic as well as English. As well as being incredible musicians who've over the last forty years written some of the most beautiful music I've ever heard, I figure the haunting nature of this and some of their other songs might be a good companion to this story. It's not compulsory to go find the video, but I hope a few of you do, and enjoy the music.**

**Chapter Nine**

_'S an deid thu leam gu tir mo ghraidh  
>Seall na h-oin dhorchas dhona<br>Treabhadh speuran as ar cionn_

_(And you will come along with me my young girl)  
>(To see the dark menacing birds)<br>(Ploughing the skies above us)_

Runrig - Tir an arim

**Not-Alistair POV**

I stood tall on the roof of the train, stretching my back until it creaked, arms out wide to catch the wind. Even someone standing fifteen feet away as the train went by wouldn't see me in the dark; the moon was but a sliver and illuminated nothing, to human eyes at least. My unwilling host was a vampire so technically I didn't need to stretch, but it felt wonderful all the same.

Ah but he was making a mess of things, confused creature that he is. Why was it always down to me to help things along? Because the stubborn git has never acknowledged that he is still a man as well as a vampire. He doesn't brood, but he doesn't thrive either.

I met young Bella for the first time forty years from now. She was a beautiful vampire, wild and compassionate, bluntly spoken and kind to a fault. Of course she still has that to look forward to. I remember the look on her face when I pinned her to the floor in confusion. Unfortunately, so do my nuts; now there is a lass who doesn't like surprises. My young friend will wonder why that particular area ached for hours afterwards, but as with most things, I find it more amusing to keep him in the dark.

I trudged along the roofs of the train cars until I reached the one that smelled of human food. Better I than Alistair; the odours would have made him green with nausea. Not that that also wouldn't have been amusing. Moving back and forth, feeling the subtle prod of sound waves through the soles of my feet, I finally stopped above a small and slightly racing heartbeat. This was hers. I waited until it was the only heartbeat in the car, other patrons having wandered back to their own parts of the train, before lowering myself over the edge to peer in the window. I rapped softly on the glass.

**Bella POV**

I can't remember how long it's been since I've eaten anything with a knife and fork. I caught the disapproving glance of an older woman as my hands struggled to regain their muscle memory, dropping the utensils several times in the process. My blushes were eventually lost in concentration as I cut a chunk of chicken far too big, stuffing it in my mouth anyway. It was all I could do to stop myself from bulldozing through the food on the plate, but I managed, wanting to savour every bite. There were tiny vegetables, some fancy potatoes and some kind of sauce that I wanted so badly to drink straight out of the small jug. If I'd had to do this with no pants on I probably would have done exactly that, but Bella-with-pants does not gargle with a fine velouté; Bella-with-pants takes her time to enjoy the meal that's been cooked for her.

That pretty little garnish had better not think it was going to escape; there wasn't a thing on this plate that wasn't going find its way into my poor deprived stomach.

I couldn't help but feel a little paranoia creeping in as the dining car emptied of the other diners. Generally speaking, being left alone sat in front of large windows didn't do much to shore up my sense of physical security. But my stomach was sovereign for now and while it didn't think it could manage dessert, it wasn't going to let me off that easily. I looked around furtively before raising the plate up to lick the last ribbons of creamy sauce from its surface. So maybe I was too hung up on the pants thing; I seemed to be perfectly capable of being uncouth when sauce was on the line and there was a plate to be cleaned. It was only when I was thoroughly immersed in the task that I heard a distinct _tap tap tap_ on the window next to me. I froze, my tongue still plastered flat to the plate I held in midair.

You know that part in The Lion King where the little cub sees the wildebeest stampede thundering towards him? He kind of hunkers down, his ears going flat to his head in terrified anticipation. That was the image that came to mind right now, because I could feel my own body trying to ape that same stance. I could feel my shoulders wanting to hunch over, my whole being wanting to make itself as small and low a target as possible, vibrating dimly with the knowledge that it probably wasn't going to get out of this whole, or warm. I couldn't move.

Have you ever tried to engage your fight or flight response with a Wedgwood dining plate stuck to your face? Thought not. So quit judging.

I rolled a frightened eye sideways and let out a small squeak at the sight with which I was greeted. A large, upside down head smiled widely while an equally large hand waved happily at me. I looked at the plate then back at the…individual outside the window again before lowering the plate cautiously. He waved again, his grin widening, and I looked all around me in confusion, desperately hoping that he was waving at someone else.

That would be a no.

I grimaced and my hand raised in a sort of half-wave of its own before I knew what I was doing. My legs did a better job, though, and suddenly flung me out of my chair to hurtle me out of the dining car and back to my cabin. I leapt through the door, slamming it shut behind me, and stood there with my back pressed against the solid wood, which calmed me a little even though I watched the windows warily for any sign of my stalker. There was nothing to see or hear for several minutes except my racing heart, which thundered in my ears. I clutched my chest, trying to slow my breathing. Ragged gasps might be a perfectly normal response to being hunted like an animal but damnit did they have to be so loud?

_tap tap tap_

I squealed and flung myself away from the door. The three knocks had been purposeful, and I'd been able to tell from the vibration against my back _exactly_ in which spot his knuckles had been hitting the wood. I heard a dull and muffled thump followed by a brief slapping noise. I could only picture that he had let his forehead fall against the door, slapping his palms against the wood as he leant towards me. I was thankful for the barrier between us but wasn't even going to try to kid myself that it would keep him out. He seemed to have the same idea. His deep, thunderclap of a voice came from the other side of the door.

"Sassenach, do ye want to let me in or do ye want to put all these nice people's lives at risk by making me break the door in?" I was silent for a moment, bouncing on the balls of my feet and screwing my fingers together in terrified indecision. His logic was annoyingly persuasive, even if it was evil. I opened the door warily, just enough of a chink to see a narrow view of his face. He scowled a little, maybe because he was bent almost double, his enormous frame filling the corridor to an uncomfortable degree.

"What's a sassywhatsit?"

"Sassenach. It means foreigner. Ye're no a Scot, so it fits."

"OK, Gigantor," I sighed, motioning him in. "You gonna kill me now or you want to chat first?" I was unprepared for the loud guffaw he let out. "Well I'm glad one of us finds this amusing."

"Always, Sassenach, always do ye make me laugh. I've known ye a long time and still yer strange sense of humour tickles me."

"I'm sorry…what? I think I'd remember meeting Shrek's paler but larger cousin." More laughter. Why do I get the feeling that being a source of amusement as well as dinner is the much less dignified way to go? He studied my blank face and decided I was being serious, scrubbing a hand (paw) across his broad face.

"Damnit. You linear beings confuse the hell out of me sometimes. How ye can exist on a straight line and still make sense of everything baffles me. To not know things until they happen…how do ye do it?" I figured this was a rhetorical question and focused on the point that stood out the most.

"What do you mean 'linear beings'?" He didn't seem to be about to tear me to pieces so I sank onto the sofa with what I hoped was well concealed exhaustion.

"Yer perception of time, it goes in a straight line, aye? With a beginning, a middle, and an end."

"Of course; how else would it go?" This also amused him greatly and one huge hand reached out to ruffle my hair almost affectionately. I say almost, because affection isn't supposed to be accompanied by the urge to empty your bladder and stomach simultaneously.

"I dinnae exist the same way you do. I exist in all time at once. I'll meet you for the first time in about four decades. Be gentle on me, by the way; I know ye dinnae like surprises but ye're a might rough."

"OK, you lost me at 'all time'." This was bad. I could feel myself relaxing the more he spoke, and a distant, tiny part of my brain was protesting, convinced that I was going to become mincemeat at any moment but unable to fight the fact that I found this terrifying person's presence calming in some way.

I studied him as he talked. He must have been a hair over seven feet tall, for he had to bend over to stand. He didn't look quite human, not the way vampires did anyway. He looked like a movie caricature, double or triple muscle mass covering his whole body, bulging and twisting around thick limbs that looked like they comprised steel rods instead of bones. His hair stood up in a spiky, shaggy mane, somewhere between long and short, the colour a black that seemed reddish or bluish depending on the angle at which the light caught it. The tendons in his arms and legs were the thickness of my wrists, and I felt an unsurprising calm as I realised that it would take two of his fingers at most to snap my neck, or any other part of me for that matter, like a twig.

I realised I'd zoned out a little when he snapped his fingers in front of my face. I looked up in startled apology and he just shook his head, smiled, and kept talking.

"Assuming you missed some of that, I'll repeat it. I exist everywhere, or rather everywhen, at the same time, and although I choose to experience moments only once, with very few exceptions, I dinnae do so in any particular order like ye would. What would be tomorrow or an hour away for me could be twenty years in the past or a hundred years in the future for yer kind, or even for a vampire. The best I can say it is that I skip around. I dinnae get to see the light of day ower much. The times when I escape or, even more rarely, when Alistair lets me out, are all mixed up, or they would be from your point of view."

"Wait…wait wait hold on. When Alistair lets you out? I thought you were Alistair. Isn't that what you told me your name was when you found me passed out in the public toilets?"

"Huh? Oh…hang on." He closed his eyes, looking inward for a moment before opening them again. "I see. That won't happen for me for another week or so, but I know that I'll tell ye that to be less confusing, as for you that will be your first meeting with either me or my host."

"Was, not will be, _was_." This guy was making my head hurt.

"For ye, yes, was would be correct. Think of me as...kind of an unwelcome passenger. Alistair and I, we share a body but not a consciousness. He's no here when I am, and vice versa." A thought struck me. Well, first it occurred to me that I'd have to get him to say 'vice versa' again at some point; I may be a danger magnet but damnit I'm a danger magnet that loves to hear a guy with a Scottish accent. _Then_ a thought struck me.

"So, do you have a name?"

"I'm not-Alistair." He smirked and shrugged, a gesture that looked surprisingly elegant on so large a frame.

"Yes, I know you're not, but do you have a name of your own?"

"That's no what I meant. I'm no saying that I'm no Alistair, I'm saying that _I am_ not-Alistair."

"Oooooh. You mean like...unAlistair or nonAlistair or antiAlistair."

"Or Uncle Alistair, yes."

"But that's not what…you're joking." I slapped my hand to my face. "So, judging by the fact that I'm not dead yet and the amusement you get a great deal of at my expense, can I assume…I mean can I ask…are we friends, you and I, at some point in time?" He suddenly looked serious, his eyes searching mine hopefully.

"Ye are my best…friend." _And only_. My heart clenched as I understood the two words he left out as clearly as if he'd spoken them. And in a way he had; his expression was an open book, even as alien as his face was. I decided to proceed with caution.

"OK then, friend. Do you have a name aside from not-Alistair?"

"Well my physical state isnae unlike the fabled warrior Cuchulain. You could call me Cuch."

"What?! I'm not calling you that!" I could feel my jaw hanging open.

"Why in damnation not?" he growled. Oh crap, now I've pissed him off. Best friend best friend he won't kill his best friend.

"Because…" I spluttered, embarrassed. "Because…" I continued in a pseudo whisper. "because where I'm from _cooch_ is a euphemism for vagina." His eyes flew open in surprise and I cringed, waiting for his reaction.

"Did ye…did ye just call me a _pussy_?" He doubled over with laughter, clutching at his ribcage as he howled. Eventually he had to lower himself to sit on the floor because he couldn't laugh this hard at the same time.

"Oh…ooooh, Sassenach, yer killing me." I'd have to stop making him laugh; I don't want to start getting complaints about loud bass music from the other passengers.

"Well that's better than the other way around," I muttered. That just set him off again.

"Call me Colin, then," he said through fading chuckles. "It's close enough, aye?"

"What? No, that's…no." He raised a bushy black eyebrow at me. I caved. "Fine, I'll try Cuch. I'll _try_," I emphasised. "But don't hold it against me if I get the giggles from time to time."

"I'll try not to. But maybe if…Sassenach? What's wrong? Ye've gone awful pale."

"From time to time. I just said from time to time. Like I'm making plans. What the fuck is wrong with me?" I sniffed urgently, demanding that my stupid human body not give way to tears.

"Plenty, but nothing obviously extra right now," he pondered. "Ye dinnae want to make plans?" He sounded a little hurt. Imagine, a creature this size being hurt because I didn't want to make plans to see him again. But that made me think of Emmett and my heart started doing a painful two-step in my chest.

"I…it's just…you exist inside someone who's trying to kill me. I might not have much of a sense of self preservation but even I can see the flaws in the logic here."

"Everything is no what it seems." He reached out one of his giant hands as if to touch me, then thought better of it and tucked it back by his side. He'd remained sitting on the floor, for which I was thankful. He was still taller than me but it didn't feel so much like he was towering over me. Not that it diminished my inner panic by much.

"Not as it seems?! He's hunting me!" I felt sick. The reality of the situation had come back with a vengeance.

"Aye. But that willnae turn out the way he expects." He looked sad. What was I missing here?

"I don't understand. Hey…are you…are you shrinking?" I suddenly became aware that his gaze was closer to my eye level than it had been moments ago. His hair seemed a little different, too.

"Hmm?" he said absently, looking down at his hands. As he stared I saw the muscles in forearms diminish noticeably in size.

"Alis-I mean Cuch, what's going on?" This was new, and scary.

"Oh…shit." His face contorted, as if in pain, as his body grew shorter and less broad, his muscles starting to smooth out and his hair grow and lighten in colour. He looked at me in horror. "Run! Bella run!"

I wanted to. God knows I wanted to. But I was utterly unable to move. All I could do was stare in horror as his body shrank and the planes of his face refined, becoming less broad and rugged. He still looked startlingly masculine, but less alien, more man. Eyes that had been a surreal green transitioned through a murky brown to a deep, bright red. My heart all but stopped as I realised they were observing me with a totally foreign regard. I instinctively pulled back as far as I could, my back meeting sofa. Having nowhere to go, my eyes darted sideways, judging the path I would have to take to rush past him to escape through the door.

"Ye ken that's no going to work, little human." His gravelly voice made me shiver and my eyes met his again. He had the ghost of a smile on his lips and I could see his nostrils flaring as they took in great lungfuls of my scent.

"I…"

"Time to go," he said, his voice a knell of finality.

With a whoosh of long limbed agility, the real Alistair swept me up in his arms and threw the both of us backwards through the window, broken glass forming a halo around us for a split second before my captor landed on his feet and took off at a run that surpassed even Edward for speed. I had a sinking feeling that my internal compass was correct in the assumption it made. He was taking me back.


	10. Chapter 10

**Fuil 'o mo chuislean**

**Damn the latest chapter had been read over a hundred times before it'd even been up for two hours. Thanks guys you frikken rock! A very special thank you to the many of you who have stuck with me and this story from the beginning; the updates have been far too far apart and it means a lot that you're still here. Thanks to Arabella Whitlock for letting me bounce some ideas around and to KissMeOverTheSwing for pushing me when I needed it (the last chapter wouldn't have happened without her, probably this one, too. lol). **

**Chapter Ten**

_Sunday is gloomy,_

_My hours are slumberless._

_Dearest the shadows I_

_Live with are numberless._

Sarah McLachlan (or Billie Holliday) - Gloomy Sunday

**Alistair POV**

Maybe my unwelcome guest wasn't such a pain in the ass after all. He'd ruined some of my potential sneaking time but, having my prize suddenly in front of me, I couldn't complain. I knew something was different when I surfaced from wherever it is that I go when he takes a walk topside, so to speak. That scent. It _surrounded_ me. I think part of me wanted to run away from it. I cursed that part and inhaled anew. It was sinful the way her scent caressed every part of me. Although…her fear didn't smell as glorious as it should.

_There may be a reason for that._

I ignored my passenger and watched the human's eyes flit between me and the door. I shook my head. Don't go ruining things now; I want to savour you as I have no other, and I can't do that if you force my hand by trying to run.

"Ye ken that's no going to work, little human." The smell of fear increased, and yet my happiness decreased proportionately as it did. That just wouldn't do.

"I…" She was immobile. I guess it was up to me to move things along.

"Time to go." I took us out through the train carriage's window and she passed out shortly thereafter.

"She spends far too much time unconscious. How're we supposed to have any fun if she can't be bothered to stay awake for it?" I mused, waiting for the inner voice to join me.

_Ye dinnae need to hurt her. Ye can still see this for what it is_.

"She, not it. And she's the Holy Grail is what she is. Do ye ken how many vampires go an eternity without finding their singer? I'm no wasting this chance."

_Aye, ye are. And ye dinnae even ken why_.

I wasn't used to him sounding disappointed. He was often happiest humiliating me over the slightest thing, and I'd never cared about that before. Why now did I care that the tone of his voice made me feel as though I'd let not just him down, but myself, too?

"Then tell me, damn yer hide. Do ye ken how sick I am of yer mystical bullshit?"

I waited…and waited…and waited…but received no reply. I was so used to his constant harassment that his silence was enough to unnerve me thoroughly. I unconsciously tightened my grip around the soft human body in my hands, where I held it as far from my face as possible. Even so, it did little good. The chaotic colours invaded my mind again and I found myself standing still in the middle of a field, lost in her scent for God knows how long. I was surprised that I hadn't killed her already but I felt a small surge of pride that I could muster such self control.

It was hard, though, hard to make my legs move again when everything about my prize distracted me so. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other for several minutes, mindful not to squeeze so hard as to damage her before I was able to take her back to my eyrie. If I could keep my mind off her until then, I could take my time enjoying every drop of her when I reached my destination, when I reached home.

All I could do as my feet move me ever onwards towards home was to delve into the past again. This time my death, and birth.

_**Eve of April 15th, 1746. Castle Leod, Scotland**_

_My father had tasked me with organising the men as they gathered around open fires to clean and sharpen their weapons for the morrow but by the end of the day I had grown weary of their drunken infighting. The Chattans, a raucous bunch, had brought far too much whisky with them and had passed it freely. After the ninth argument about whether I had the right to confiscate it from them or not I had tipped the barrels over and threatened to light the fumes aflame if they did not get to their beds and rest before the battle._

_So now I found myself wandering through the glen that had been my solace since childhood. The trees crowded me like familiar friends and the darkness gave me no pause. I was comfortable here, had been since I found it, far from the castle, when I was six. My father had beaten me for the first time, for insolence he said, but I knew it had been because I made my sister cry. My poor six year old bum had still been smarting as I wandered to the edge of our lands to slip between the trees, only to discover a small burn with cool water in which to dip my sore arse._

_This time it was my heart that was smarting. The morrow we would best the English in one of the most crucial battles any of us, hopefully, would ever fight. If…when we were victorious, the Jacobite cause would be one step closer to being proven righteous and we would soon after see Charles Stuart take the throne. Our country would be glorious once again. And my sister was no longer here to see it. She had been gone nigh on seventeen months now and it still felt like yesterday. I'd wanted to see her grown and wedded in a country of her own, free and proud to be a Scot, not cowed under English rule._

_I sat on the bank of the burn, skimming pebbles on the calmer parts and making the moon ripple on its surface. The sound was comforting, the water whispering over the boulders it had spent centuries smoothing and rolling. I thought I heard a noise behind me but, turning, saw nothing. There would be deer this time of night, wandering through the glen to nibble the dew laden grasses. I thought about killing one to take back with me but it would be a waste; all but myself were likely asleep by now and even I could not stomach a beast in its entirety. Or perhaps I could, but being able to stand in the morning was more important. That…and I did not think my roiling insides would welcome the effort._

_I lay back on the grassy slope and listened to the sounds of the deer moving through the trees beside me. If I could find and keep just a little peace within me before I and all the men of the clans went into battle I might be better able to concentrate on fighting instead of mourning. And as much as I never wanted Mairie far from my mind, I wanted to dishonour my family even less. Nor did I wish to lose any more of them. My father, uncles and too many cousins to number would be fighting by my side the morrow, many of them under my command. I could not, would not, fail them._

_By the time I realised that the deer in the trees were moving stealthily on two feet and not four, it was too late._

_I was hauled from the ground on which I lay, a vicelike grip around my throat. Stars pinged and popped behind my vision as strong fingers clamped around my neck. I was being held in the air by a tall form. How in the name of God could anyone hold a man of my size like this? The fall of the long brown hair looked familiar somehow, and his skin was a ghostly white. I tried to tell him to stop but all that came out of my throat was a strangled gurgle._

"_You want me to let you go. I don't need to be able to hear the words to know that," the creature taunted sadly. I was fast coming round to the idea that this was not a man but some kind of demon. "I'm afraid I can't do that. But I do not come here in enmity. What you did…what you took from me, was not your fault, and is eclipsed by what _they_ took from me."_

_My hands were frantic now, scrabbling at the fingers around my neck as I felt the blood pressure building in my head. I could feel the pulse of my heart in my entire body and there was a rushing sound in my ears, as if the burn has burst its banks._

_A moment later the hand slammed me to the ground and instead of pressure I now felt a slicing pain. My vision was still too poor but I could feel the long, thick hair heavy on the skin of my chest and realised that the man, the thing, was biting me. I tried to push him away but couldn't move him, which sent panic spiralling through me, before the pain of his teeth was replaced by something else, something much worse._

"_I am sorry," said the creature. "Sorry for what we did to you and for what I do now. We meant you no harm, and we took everything from you, and now I take even more." I moaned as fire licked started to lick against me from the inside out. "This may be my only chance. And it may be yours, too. You will see me again someday, my young friend. Do not think too harshly of me for this when you do."_

_With those parting words I felt him leave in a swirl of heavy cloak and rushing air. As the fire took hold of me I threw back my head and screamed._

_Hours, it must have been hours but it felt like days that I lay there with the fire making an anvil of my body, beating waves of pain upon it without mercy. I couldn't see, the pain so bright that it had blinded me, but I could hear, and I could feel even though it hurt to touch anything. As my body shook under the assault of the pain I managed to roll over onto my stomach and started to crawl. It was slow going, between screaming for the pain to stop and the bursts of agony that shot up my fingers as I groped around for anything familiar to lead me home._

_There…under my fingers now, through the white hot needles, I could feel cool cobbles. I had found the track through the farmland that would lead me back to the castle and hauled myself onto it. There should have been a great deal of indignity in this, crawling on my stomach like a worm, and even as a grown man having no other thought in my head than that I needed my da._

_I crawled a mile and a half along that track. I hoped in the right direction. My hearing was coming and going, as was my sanity. I had to stop many times to scream my agony to the heavens, or the ground; I didn't have a great degree of control of which way I was facing and the pain overwhelmed my sense of up and down. I needed him. I needed my da, needed him to make the pain go away, needed him to hold me like he had when I was a small boy, crying because I'd fallen in a patch of stinging nettles. Only now the nettles must have been the size of trees to wrack my body with this much pain._

_I couldn't tell what time it was when the cobbles beneath me gave way to the flagstones of the courtyard. But it must have been early, very early; there were no sounds of life, no talking, no shouting, no clang and clatter of metal from swords and horses' hooves. Would I lie here for hours until sunup? Would I be dead before anyone found me? I couldn't scream any more, and I tried, God in Heaven I tried, but the flames were licking up my legs and arms now and beginning to touch my chest, stealing the breath right out of me. All I could do was moan and hope that someone had had the forethought to leave a guard awake._

_I focused on the cold flagstones for a time, my hands unconsciously ripping the shirt from my torso so I could press my bare skin against the smooth rock. It didn't help much, but even the smallest lessening of the roaring hearth my body had become was welcome._

_It was like that that they had found me, stretched out on the courtyard stones, moaning in pain and unable to open my eyes. I felt a hand grip my shoulder to turn me over and cried in relief that I wouldn't die alone._

_The burning agony was like a tide within me, ebbing and flowing as I listened to the panicked voices around me, rising and falling like the waves that crashed against every nerve in my body. But then, some little peace. I felt a touch against my cheek and I knew even without my sight that it was my father; I would know the calluses of his sword hand anywhere, with or without my senses._

"_Och, laddie, who has done this to ye?" I couldn't answer him, could only bite back the next scream and the next and the next as he prodded and poked my scorching flesh. He paid particular attention to the wound on my neck, which I could feel was still slick and gaping. "Get him up," I heard him bark at the men. "See to my son, damn ye. Ye're all awake now and we've nae time to waste so put him on the wagon and get to yer weapons. The Beaton can work on his wounds as we march."_

_Still rougher hands manhandled my leaden limbs into the back of what smelled like a horse drawn cart. It shocked me that I could still smell, that my nostrils couldn't pick up even the slightest stench of my skin cooking. Was I trapped inside my mind with an inferno that wasn't real? Try as I might I couldn't outthink it even the fraction that would have allowed me to open my eyes. Beneath me I could feel straw prickling my face and chest. It wasn't nearly as soothing as the stones had been and I worried that the heat within me would kindle it to flame._

_This, only this, this terror and burning fugue were all I knew for many hours, my mind dipping in and out of it like an unlucky village crone on a ducking stool. I came out of it less and less, but the furore around me had grown each time I surfaced. Before I knew what was happening or how much time had passed I breached the nightmare only to hear the sounds of battle, bloodlust and fear on all sides, cries of pain mixing with cries of courage as my kinsmen charged a battlefield I could not see._

_I had failed. Failed my father, failed myself, failed the Jacobite cause. What good was I, laying in my own piss and panic while clansmen I had known since birth were spilling their heartblood on the moor and on English swords? A coward who couldn't even get out of his bed to fight for his own blood. My hands that should have gripped the hilt of my Claymore could only clutch and curl into talons that pierced their own palms with bloody fingernails because there just _had to be_ some kind of pain that was greater than this. _

_I was losing. I thought I had already relinquished every part of myself to this horror and yet I was losing…more. As the flames intensified my mind spiralled backwards, sputtering with sharply illustrated scenes. I saw mountains changing, coastlines fattening our shores as they pushed outwards to join islands and mainland together. Valleys flooded and reappeared, home to herds of great beasts that were hunted with featureless, stick-like spears by people whose innocent hands painted shapes on cave walls. There were others, like us, yet not, shorter, bow legged; they were talking with grunts and hand gestures but they _were _talking._

_We are old. We are so much older than we ever knew._

_My mind streaked forwards, a garish brushstroke on the canvas of the night sky, and so much farther. Unencumbered by a physical form it reached out to the ends of time and hung mistlike above the many worlds that we had chosen as our own, planetary outposts that harboured more lives than I could count. We survive. Are we still us? By the time we journey to the Heavens and beyond, do we still love?_

_I can't…I can't know this. It is too much. Oh God in Heaven take my soul, take me from this place. Do not forsake me in my hour of need. Let me see my sister, let me escape this agony and live with you in love and in light. Take me. Please TAKE ME!_

_Help me._

_I waited what seemed an eternity, a drop of water ready to fall, gathering mass, beckoning gravity. Only it wasn't water, it was a bead, a barrel, a torrent of molten metal pouring straight through the heart of me. And with the greatest pain came the greatest silence. The war drums no longer beat in my head. Nor in my chest._

With no memory of reaching my destination, I found myself standing at the top of my mountain, looking down at the place where it had all begun. I remembered waking to the wheezing of the injured clansman in the cot beside me. Remembered the flames that, not wanting to abandon me completely, had risen in my throat as his heartbeat rose in my ears. I could not bring myself to be disgusted by my new appetite, for it helped him and it slaked me. I had been left for dead, the battle long finished, only the dead strewn over the land, and the dying, the dying whom I helped in the only way I was now able to know.

I retreated into the depths of the castle, keeping my eyes averted from the limp form in my arms. I could not think of feeding now. She would keep, and I would be more myself after a time. I deposited her on the stone floor of the cell and swung the ancient iron gate closed, flinging the lock home. She would be going nowhere. For now.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, I wasn't expecting to get another chapter out so soon. I know you lot sure as hell didn't think there'd be one. But I hope you liked it. Until next time. There will be mistakes. But it's 4AM and I will have to get to them tomorrow. Goodnight!<br>**

**~Sin~**


	11. Chapter 11

**Fuil 'o mo chuislean**

**Copyright© D. A. Bathory 2015**

**Twilight characters and universe are not mine, but the original characters, storyline and wording are mine.**

**Hmmm little bit dark for the last chapter. You lot seemed to enjoy it, though, which is awesome. The necessary knowledge about Alistair's past is catching up with the present day. A few people mentioned aliens, not sure where they come in, so I have to disappoint you and say that as far I know (at this point) there are and will be no aliens in this story. If I use the word alien I'm using it as a synonym for foreign. If the part during Alistair's burn where his time travel element allows him to see the dawn of humanity as well as their distant future where they've inhabited other planets isn't overly clear, let me know. It's likely, though, that that will be mentioned and explained more thoroughly by the character himself in later chapters. I can't tell you how stoked I am that so many of you are still enjoying this story, and to the new readers who have only just found it, welcome, and thank you to you, too, for taking the time to review.**

**Human Alistair makes an appearance in my Criminal Minds fic (still wears a kilt though lol, which is something considering he's a spec ops mercenary), and will show up in my Walking Dead story too at some point, if any of you are reading those, too.**

_The jack and the queen_

_Have forsake the courtyard._

_Fifty-two gypsies_

_Now file past the guards._

Joan Baez - Farewell Angelina

**Chapter 11**

**Rosalie POV**

"NO! Nononononono. Bella no!" Jasper ran to his mate to comfort her as she collapsed to the floor, sobbing. I felt my insides wrench. Were we too late? Had he killed her already?

"Alice? Alice! What did you see? What did you see, darlin'?" Jasper was rocking her back and forth, his face buried in her hair as she cried.

"He…he took her. Everything was blank and then suddenly he appeared. He took her out the train window and he's taken her north. All I saw after that was him throwing her on a stone floor."

"Was she..is she…is she dead, Alice?" Emmett's voice choked in his throat. I knew how hard it was for him to ask that question. I was too much of a coward to ask it myself. Esme's small sound of despair told me that it was on her mind, too.

"I don't think so. Not yet. The vision I had of him throwing her across a room covered in blood hasn't changed. That's still to come but I don't know how soon."

My phone chose this moment to chirrup intrusively in my pocket. I sighed when I saw my brother's name on the screen and transferred it to the video screen in the jet's boardroom area, motioning for Emmett to join me. I settled against him in one of the cream leather chairs and answered the call on the chiming display screen. My brother's haggard face appeared.

"Edward." I nodded in greeting.

"Rose, Emmett. I'm about an hour behind you; I couldn't get a charter out of Sao Paolo soon enough due to some civil unrest. Thank you for calling me earlier. Is there any more news?"

"Yes, but it's not good," I answered, feeling Emmett wrap his arms around my waist and rest his cheek on my shoulder. "At least I don't see how it could be." I pressed my fingertips to my temples, rubbing futilely at the worry that circulated there. "Alistair has taken Bella. We don't know exactly where but Alice said he was headed back up north with her. Maybe near where she was when we first managed to contact her."

"Goddamnit!" Edward's face disappeared for a moment and I heard a crash in the background.

"Edward don't smash things while thirty thousand feet above the Atlantic. You'll be no help to Bella if you get sucked out of the plane and have to swim to the British Isles." I felt Emmett's dry chuckle more than heard it and smacked him half heartedly. This was no time for amusement.

"You're right. Sorry. I just…what do we do? What the hell do we do?"

"Has Carlisle ever talked to you about Alistair before? I know it was just the two of you for a long time." As much as we all appreciated that Carlisle didn't favour Edward, it was undeniable that he knew our father better than anyone except Esme.

"Not much more than anything he might have told you. He warned me to stay away from Scotland when I went off on my own during my…rebellious period. It was more what he didn't say that stood out, I remember that much."

"Like what?" Emmett entered the conversation with his usual brevity, slipping his fingers through mine in support. Edward was silent for a moment. I could see in his expression that he considered what he knew to be a betrayal of Carlisle's confidence if spoken outright. He looked up with determination, and apology.

"Ask him about what happened between Alistair and the Volturi."

"Edward, if you know something that could help Bella. Your mate has been kidnapped."

"Don't you think I know that?" he half snarled, shaking his head and running his fingers through his dishevelled hair. "If I knew anything I'd tell you. All I know is that I always got the impression that there was more to that altercation than that the guy is a good fighter. I'm not hiding anything, I promise; I would never hide something that could help Bella. Even if she weren't my mate I still owe her for what I did, bringing her to the attention of the Volturi like that."

"Not your fault, bro. Nor yours either, Rosie babe. We all had every reason to believe she was dead. And who the hell goes cliff diving in winter anyway?"

I nodded, trying to circumnavigate the customary guilt that threatened to overwhelm me.

"Nothing came of it. She met the Volturi, she went home, we all got drunk, she had a cool story to tell her grandkids. If she could talk about it that is." I chuckled. Bless Emmett if he didn't have the most wonderful way of looking at things that would tear others apart.

"You're right. It turned out fine. Unless…Edward, was Demetri in the throne room when you and Bella met the kings?"

"Yes. And he greeted Bella by kissing her hand. He could have-"

"Been one of the ones hunting her these past years," I finished for him.

"If he's met her, could he help us track her now?"

"But if they're trying to kill her, wouldn't they be the last ones we'd want to ask for help? And what if they're looking for us, too?" I launched myself from Emmett's lap and paced the room, panic swiftly settling into the pit of my stomach.

"If they wanted us they could, and would, have called Carlisle at any time to extend an 'invitation'. You know that, Rose," said Edward quietly.

"Yes." I flattened my palms against my cheeks, willing myself to calm. "Yes, you're right, of course they could have, would have."

"I think-" Edward cut himself off to close his eyes for a moment.

"You OK, bro?" asked Emmett.

"Yes, yes of course. I think maybe…maybe something I ate didn't agree with me." He gave a gruff half laugh at his small joke. Emmett smiled and continued talking.

"Let's just…leave that option open for now and go ask Carlisle what Edward suggested. We've got two hours until we land in London. Three for Edward. We might as use the time efficiently."

"I thought strategising was Jasper's forte?" I smiled, leaning against Emmett, feeling the strength of his body always a comfort.

"It is, babe. I'm just suggesting that we do some. I'm not a complete waste of space in the thinking department, you know."

"Never, my love, never a waste." I kissed him softly, my panic dwindling to a tiny point that I could suppress while we dealt with all of this. I hoped. I wouldn't be any good to Bella if I couldn't think straight.

"Ahem." Edward interrupted awkwardly, making us both chuckle.

"Sorry, Edward. If we go and ask Carlisle about Alistair, can you get in touch with the wolves in Forks and try and find out what happened there the day Bella was supposed to meet us on that plane? Something in my gut tells me that whatever went wrong, it started in Forks."

"I'll call Sam now. Though he might not be willing to speak to me."

"We can only try, bro. That's all any of us can do right now. Try our best and hope it's enough."

"I'll talk to you when I touch down. Meet me at the airport and we'll figure out where we go from there." With that Edward signed off and the screen returned to our private airline's screensaver.

I let out a long sigh and turned to my mate.

"I need her, Emmett. I need her. I feel like part of me is missing. But I'm so…I'm so _angry_ with her. For going off like that without a word, for leaving us all hanging, not knowing if she was alive or dead all this time. Aren't we her family anymore? Were we ever? You don't do that to family, you just don't." I wrapped my fingers into his t-shirt, the fingers curling into fists as I bumped my forehead against his.

"She knows that, babe. And for what it's worth we're probably all as pissed at her as we are worried about her. But it can wait, can't it?" I nodded.

"She had reason, good reason, for leaving without telling us where. I know that, I do. And I'll let her explain. But I'm not promising that I won't yell. But god, Emmett, I really hope I get the chance to yell at her, you know?"

"I know, babe. Me too." He kissed my neck and hugged me to him hard before taking my hand and leading me back to the cabins eating where the others sat.

I nodded to Jasper and motioned to the huge, ancient book Carlisle had dragged along with us, feeling that we'd need it. I turned to our father.

"Edward said to ask you about what happened between Alistair and the Volturi. He's going to talk to the Pack, see if he can find out what happened the day Bella went missing."

"I think that's a good idea." Carlisle nodded slowly. "Jasper, the book." Jasper passed the heavy tome to Esme, who laid it in her mate's lap, settling beside him as he opened it.

"I was never supposed to see this book. I came across it during a stay with the Volturi, a later visit you understand, not my time living with them. This was perhaps five or ten years before I created Edward. As you can see," He stroked a fingertip beneath the lines of spidery script. "This is one of Aro's personal ledgers. His journal if you will."

We breathed a collective gasp. This was Aro's diary?

**Alistair POV**

I stood at the parapet, buffeted by winds that blew in off the Atlantic. The cold didn't bother me but I could feel it all the same. It felt malicious, howling through the stone walls, finding every nook and cranny, whistling and moaning as if it had desires beyond chilling this corner of the world. Sometimes I envied it. It would blow across the highlands, chilling the humans and taking the moisture from their fields, and continue on its journey across to the great continent to the East, perhaps moving down to Africa where it would be warmed by the heat rising from the sand.

I wished that there was something that could warm my cold limbs, my frozen heart. Instead I found myself in a castle missing the north wall with the shrieks of my prisoner grating in my ears. I tried to ignore them, smoothing the stone along the blade I held in one hand. The shriek of the metal wasn't quite enough to drown out the human's cries, but it was close.

I heard another cry and looked up, seeing the great wings of the golden eagle as it quartered the sky above me. He was a wild creature such as I, needing to be high up with an eye on the world below. I whistled and watched as he altered just the tips of his wings, allowing himself to drop down through the thermals towards the castle where I stood waiting. His huge talons alighted on the stone wall and he picked his way along it to where I stood, peeping as he eyed me, wondering if I had anything edible for him as I sometimes did.

"Not today, laddie. I just wanted to see how ye are. Though ye'd likely have let me know before now if anything was amiss."

He cocked his head, listening for a moment to the cries of the human woman far below us before looking back to me with a burst of conversational noises, pecking me a little spitefully to teach me a lesson for calling him without a reward in hand.

"Aye. I'm sorry. I didnae think." He acknowledged my mistake with a shake of his head before spreading his enormous wings and taking to the skies once more, rising quickly, barely moving a muscle as he let the air do the work for him. This time he headed south to the fields where I knew he would find his supper running through the grass. I bent my head back to the sword and whetstone in my hands, moving one long the other as I honed the metal to a lethal edge.

The sword was the only thing I had brought from my human life besides my clan brooch, the great sapphire gem that still fastened my plaid to this day. I should have carried the Claymore into battle but instead I carried it into the afterlife, such was the way of things. The Mackenzie motto Luceo non Uro, I shine not burn, was still as sharply imprinted into the hilt of the blade as it had been the day it was forged for me.

It had been a special commission by my father from the blacksmith, who also doubled as master swordsmith. With none to equal his skill I could see why. There were no swords that could match my size as I quickly approached six and a half feet tall, so my father had asked that this blade be made to fit. I swung the newly sharpened blade through the air and heard the slight whistle, high and nearly outside the human threshold of hearing. The sharper the blade, the less noise it made; this one was almost silent.

Human…hearing…shite. She'd gone quiet. I didn't think that was a good thing. I laid the blade upon the wall where it sang gently against the roughly hewn stone as I hopped over the wall, landing in the courtyard and hurrying to the entryway to the labyrinthine corridors that led down to the dungeons where I had left her. I flung the iron gate open, my vampire eyes even having trouble in the gloomy hole to make out the figure of the human. My mind was screaming as it tried to process her scent but I didn't stop to pay it any attention.

I reached forward and snatched her off the floor by one arm, bringing her face closer to mine.

"What have you been screaming about?"

"A-are you f-fucking k-kidding m-me? You l-locked me in a f-f-fucking hole in the gr-ground."

"At least I'm no in there with ye. Ye want to come out here with the creature who wants to eat ye?" She nodded emphatically and I almost laughed.

"Why did ye stop screaming?" She shivered and I could feel the tremble right down to her bones. She was terrified. But more that, she was…

"C…c-co-old. I'm c-cold." Her eyes closed and I bent closer to run my nose along her jaw, sensing the now sluggish ebb and flow of her blood. I could just eat her now, get it over with, I could…but I couldn't. Not yet. Because…I didn't know why, just that it would be better if I waited.

"B-bastard." Furious brown eyes bore into mine, tears threatening to overflow. I wondered what they would taste like.

"My father wed my mother thank ye verra much." Some small part of me was bothered by the fact that she'd implied I was less than legitimately born.

"Y-you know wh-what I m-mean. G-get me out of this h-hole you fu-fucking ASSHAT."

"Ah. So ye can swear at me without stuttering. Good for ye. Come then. No point eating ye while ye're cold as day old parritch."

I dragged her by the arm up the stairs and to the tower, stopping in the one room that had a fireplace without a collapsed chimney. Unfortunately I hadn't paid any mind to the fact that the stone stairs and flagstones I'd hauled her up and over had been less than kind to her person. She curled shaking hands around bleeding grazes on both knees and looked up at me with frightened eyes.

I clenched my hands into fists and screwed my eyes shut as the scent of her blood overwhelmed my senses like a tidal wave. My thoughts began to dim at the edges as it called to me.

**Jasper POV**

I tasted the emotions in the cabin as Carlisle opened the book. Shock and hope were strange bedfellows but they were swamping the room in equal measure. Esme's desperation was beginning to take too strong a hold of her, though, and I tried to find some calm to send to her. It wasn't much, because I didn't have much to give, but what I did have was hers. She murmured her thanks as she lay her hands flat on Carlisle's leg, contact with him working to keep them both functioning on a level that would serve everyone best.

"I've read these journal entries dozens of times. Most of the book is written impersonally, a record of daily life at Volterra; who came and went, what problems there were and what was done about them. But the entries that involve Alistair are deeply, deeply personal in nature."

"Do they say much about him or just what happened when he was there?"

"Both. He visited Volterra on 24th November 1744. For all intents and purposes, the Volturi were very pleased to receive him; his great uncle had had no small hand in raising the town's great church and they welcomed him with open arms. But something went wrong during the visit. I do not know why, but Caius killed Alistair's sister, and Alistair, in a killing rage, decimated their numbers within a matter of minutes and then escaped unharmed. The remaining Volturi fled the area for many weeks."

"I understand that it was a great blow to lose so many of the guard, but why would that be so personal?" Emmett looked thoughtful. It was a question I would have expected of Rose or Esme, not so much of my large and jovial brother. Sometimes we forget that, despite his open and comic nature, he has as thoughtful and nimble a mind as the rest of us.

"Because in his anger, Alistair killed Marcus' mate and Aro's sister. Didyme." Carlisle's tone told us all we needed to know. The vampire who had taken Bella was responsible for the worst atrocity ever committed against the kings of our race.

"Oh. Oh no." I felt Alice's despair grow out of control and there was nothing I could do to lessen it because it mirrored my own. If he could kill a queen, we stood little chance of stopping him from ending a human life. I looked at the faces of my family and I think that it was in that defining moment that we all accepted to some small degree that we may already have lost our sister, daughter, friend.

I scrubbed my hands over my face as I search for something, anything that could give us an advantage in this impossible mission.

"What about Alistair's change, Carlisle? Do we know who his sire was?"

"We…uh…no, there's no clue as to who turned him, but we have a fairly good idea of when it happened. There are records from the Mackenzies, his clan, of him being numbered among them. And of an incident which left him with a mortal wound of the _throat_ the eve of the Battle of Culloden." I felt a chill run down my spine. "They took him with them but he died-"

"No." I said flatly. "No." I stood and paced the cabin, turning to Carlisle in accusation. "That is _impossible_. There must be some mistake."

"There is no mistake, son." Carlisle closed the book wearily, his eyes not leaving mine. "He was turned the day before the Scots fought the English on Culloden Moor."

"You know as well as I do that that battle was fought in April of 1746. A year and a half after Alistair's visit to Volterra."

A sea of confused faces looked between Carlisle and I, not comprehending the information. But again, Emmett was the quickest. I saw the implication dawn on his stony face as I looked back to the man I called father.

"That means-"

"Yes." Carlisle voice was flat and final. I held my head in my hands.

"Alistair was still human when he all but exterminated the leaders of the vampire race."

* * *

><p><strong>As the first reviewer ever on this story, thanks go to misty01 for choosing the sapphire clan brooch Alistair wears on his plaid. As second reviewer B-Mine got to choose the MacKenzie motto Luceo non Uro (I shine not burn) to be engraved on his sword.<strong>


	12. Chapter 12

**Fuil 'o mo chuislean**

**Copyright© D. A. Bathory 2015**

**Twilight characters and universe are not mine, but the original characters, storyline and wording are mine.**

**Sorry for the cliffhanger. But I kinda liked it. Lol. **

_Oh what should I do I'm just a little baby,_

_What if the lights go out and maybe,_

_And then the wind just starts to moan,_

_Outside the door, he followed me home._

Shivaree - Goodnight moon

**Chapter 12**

**Bella POV**

I had always thought I'd feel fear in the face of my death. But as I watched the enormous vampire in front of me become overwhelmed by the scent of my blood a profound calm washed over me. It was all somehow OK. It would be quick, and it would over, and it would be done. No more running, no more hiding, no more sleeping on the ground or having to beg strangers for food. I came to grips in that moment with not how close to rock bottom I had come, but with the fact that I had reached it and prostrated myself upon its jagged bedrock.

I could even feel it beneath my palms as I struggled to push myself to stand up, doing so only after falling on my ass a time or two. I closed my eyes briefly, sending a silent goodbye to my family, before walking slowly to stand in front of my captor. I could see the tremors that wracked his massive frame, and that preternaturally calm part of brain that had bidden my feet to bring me closer now observed the fine bones in his large hands with detached fascination. At six and a half feet he was over a foot taller than I, proportionate, and currently looking very much like a statue.

Apart from the growling. That was very unstatuelike. It rolled continually from his chest and I fought the urge to place my palm flat against his sternum to measure its intensity.

"Just do it." His eyes popped open, wide black pupils consuming the red irises. "Get it over with."

His hands jerked momentarily at his sides and I saw my own calm invade his body, travelling from top to bottom, stilling him, everything but his eyes, which roved over my face and then the skin of my neck. I scooped my hair away from my shoulders with fingers that should have been trembling but that felt confident. There was a sensuality to the way he zeroed in on the pulse there at the base of my throat, a romance in the way one large hand reached up to bend me to him as his mouth descended.

I felt like a dancer, one of those fine ladies in swirling silks who traced patterns on the ballroom floor with dainty feet, dipped by her partner as the music reached a crescendo. He dipped me. The bastard dipped me and I felt cool, soft lips trace along the throbbing vein in my neck. But there was no music, only the harsh tickle of my heart against my ribs as I felt sharp teeth. It hurt more than I had imagined it would, and I felt the burn as a small amount of his venom made contact with the open wound.

And then he stopped.

"No. No, ye dinnae tell me what to do and when to do it." He'd withdrawn his teeth from my flesh slowly, causing me to wince, and now stood gripping both my upper arms in his hands. There was resentment in his eyes now, and I watched as the pupils shrunk, allowing the red around them to grow.

"What do ye think ye're doing?" He shook me so hard my teeth rattled and my fright reappeared with a vengeance. "Ye think ye can dictate to me? Ye are _my_ prisoner, _my_ human, _my_ singer."

"Well…well you're _my_ kidnapper, _my_ captor, _my_ murderer and I'll tell you what to do if I DAMN WELL FEEL LIKE IT!" I screamed at him, anger replacing fear and shocking me out of my silence quite effectively. "You know what. I've had it up to here with you. Oh, I think I'll kill you now. Oh, no I won't. Make up your goddamn mind!"

"Who do ye think ye're talking to ye pig-swiving slattern?" he snarled, giving me an extra shake for good measure.

"Did you…did you just call me a pig-fucking slut?" My mouth hung open at the sheer audacity. Not only had he kidnapped me and brought me to the ass end of the country, but he had the cheek to insult my life choices, such as they weren't.

"Weel..no." He let go of me and scratched one ear awkwardly, which was amusing given the circumstances. "A slattern is no exactly a…what you said. It's more someone who doesnae care owermuch to wash themselves or their dwelling."

"Oh. Oh that's just perfect. There was a shower on the train. A beautiful hot, wet shower. With soap. And shampoo. And bodywash. So if I currently smell like a pigsty it's because I'M IN ONE." He growled as I insulted his castle. Well, who wouldn't? "And whose goddamn fault is it that I'm not able to take advantage of that nice hot shower do you think? Hmm? Because it certainly wasn't my idea."

"How in the name of God did I ever think this was a good idea?" He seemed to be talking to himself. Until he looked somewhere in midair and exclaimed with a great deal of frustration. "I know verra well she smells nice! Ye dinnae have to tell me that. Again." That could mean only one thing.

"Is he talking to you? Cuch? Is he talking to you? Let me talk to him." With a great deal more bravery than I currently felt I strode up to him and rapped my knuckles on the side of his head; I couldn't reach the top of it. "Cuch! Get out here! This guy is a complete and utter ASSBASKET! Come out here and talk to me damni-"

I was cut off short as Alistair grabbed my fist in one of his and lent very close to my face. I was impressed that he managed not to crush every bone in my hand if I'm being honest here.

"It doesnae work like that. He can hear you but he is _not_ coming out to play. Now you listen here, little human. Ye are in my home, and ye can like it, or not, it's not going to change anything. I've had about enough of your mouth so for the love of all that's holy just SHUT. UP." He stalked over to the large wooden door before filching something out of the leather bag hung around his waist and throwing two objects on the floor at my feet.

"What am I supposed to do with these?" I asked indignantly, picking up a stone and a piece of metal.

"Ye start a fire," he said, looking at me as if I were stupid. Well, more stupid. He shook his head at my confusion and left the room, slamming the door behind him, which I thought probably accounted for the large cracks that stretched along its surface. He'd had anger issues for a while then.

"Singer indeed." I grouched. "If I was your singer you wouldn't have been able to stop." I raised my voice, knowing he'd still be able to hear me even through the door. "I'm tasty damnit!"

I shuffled over to the fireplace and did my best to lay some pieces of wood in a way that I thought might catch light. The stone and piece of metal were likely a flint and iron, I thought, so I looked around for something I could use as tinder. There wasn't anything suitable in the sparsely furnished room so I tore a strip from the bottom of my t-shirt, separating and fluffing the fibres as best I could.

My fingers were scratched and blistered by the time I managed to get a spark to catch the tinder, and bleeding by the time I got one to catch it at the right angle so I could coax it into a small flame. But I did manage it, and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment that I felt at that small victory was worth any amount of blisters and splinters in my hands.

I was cold, and lost, and captive. I smelled bad and my stomach was empty and my hair was feeling distinctly greasy, but I had made fire. I had triumphed over those stupid pieces of rock and metal and created something to keep me warm.

I watched as tiny flames became bigger ones, eating along the edges of the pieces of wood in the grate. Resting my chin on my knees I stretched my hands out to absorb the warmth the fire was throwing off. It was a strange sensation after being cold for so long but I welcomed it. The rest of me was still freezing, however, and with a little distaste I pulled the rug from the floor, some sort of animal hide that I thought might be wolf, and wrapped it around my shoulders.

I felt with careful fingers along the edges of the wound on my neck. The edges had knitted together and left twin bands of scar tissue in an obvious bite pattern. There must have been at least a little venom in his bite or they wouldn't have closed up at all yet, let alone this quickly. Still, they were very tender and made me shiver to touch them, strange spikes of not-pain arcing through my body, so I resolved to leave them be. Bundled up like a caveman, I allowed myself to doze in the warmth of the fire and fur.

I hadn't been expecting him to return for some time so it made me jump when the door opened with a bang. I noticed his eyes go to the fire and he made some grunt of approval or surprise before dropping a dead rabbit and a small knife in front of me.

"Eat." OK, Captain Monosyllabic. Does this thing come with instructions because my food normally comes in chunks, not still wearing its winter coat. I kept my mouth shut, however, and simply watched him walk back out and slam the door again.

I won't go into detail. Hell I don't want to remember the details. Suffice it to say it was a good half an hour before I had a much more naked rabbit cooking on a thin skewer over the fire. Along with a good sized of my innocence that was never coming back again. I don't know what his logic was in feeding me, unless it would mean I tasted better by the time he ate me, but neither my stomach nor my sense of smell were complaining.

By the time the sky outside the slit of a window in the stone wall was lightening well into late morning, the skewer over the fire was empty and my stomach was full. I pulled the fur over my head and allowed myself to finally fall asleep. I hoped I wouldn't dream.

**Emmett POV**

It was a sober looking party that disembarked the jet when it touched down in London, England. We spoke mostly in glances and touches, no-one wanting to talk about what we now knew, and what it meant.

I clasped Rose to me tightly, not wanting her out of reach for even a moment as it became more and more likely with every passing second that my sister was lost to us.

"Let's find a lounge," said Carlisle despondently. "We still have to wait for Edward's plane to land."

Esme slipped her arm through his and we fell naturally in step behind the two of them as they led the way to the building that housed the arrivals lounges and customs. We wouldn't be going through customs without Edward, so would find a quiet corner to sit in until then.

"Jazz," I whispered, catching his attention. "Is Alice OK?" She hadn't spoken a word for the last hour and seemed to be unaware of everyone around her.

"Yeah," he answered, hugging her to him and kissing the top of her head. "She's lost in her visions. There are too many outcomes at the moment. And most of them end with us all dead."

"I don't like those odds, brother. None of us will give Bella up without a fight, but there _has_ to be a way to get her back and not lose any of the family doing it."

"If anyone can find that way, Alice can. It just takes a lot of juice to sort through so many possible futures without descending into chaos. Even a vampire mind can get overloaded given enough information. But I'm hoping that when Edward gets here we'll be able to make some choices that will narrow down the outcomes for her." Jazz pushed his mate ahead of him slightly as we entered the building.

"That would be a relief," I said as we shuffled through crowds to a relatively people-free corner of the lounge. "This is such a shitstorm. I can't help but feel like there must be a silver lining in here somewhere. We just have to find it."

"That's my guy," said Rose, lifting her eyes to mine. "Always looking for the happy ending."

Yup. Especially when we play Thai massage parlo-"

"Not now, babe." I accepted her swift pinch with equanimity. I'd kinda deserved that.

It took a lot to keep ourselves from drawing attention while we waited for my brother. Everyone was so on edge that we were fidgeting more than even humans would. We probably all looked strung out on something. That shit needed to be kept in check. Don't need to get questioned before we even officially gain entry into the country. Finally, The doors opened and Edward appeared.

He didn't look well.

He made his way over to us as quickly as he could, but there was obviously something wrong. The way he clutched his jacket over his chest and his expression gave the impression of barely suppressed discomfort or pain. This was far from the cool, collected individual I'd known since I came into this existence. He sat down opposite Carlisle and nodded to the rest of us.

"Carlisle. There's something…I think I'm sick." I felt Jasper's small blast of alarm before he managed to rein it in. He looked at me apologetically. No worried, bro; I'm feeling the same.

"What's wrong, son?" asked Carlisle, the worry on his face deepening.

"I think…I think I'm…sick?" The questioning tone at the end of his sentence was telling, and unsurprising. Vampires didn't get sick, but he certainly looked it.

"Can you make it through customs, Edward?" asked Esme. "We can go somewhere and figure out what's wrong, but I think we're attracting attention already."

Edward nodded and we all rose to make our way to the security area. It was peremptory but still some things did have to be checked thoroughly, like our passports and luggage. Money could buy a lot, but secret entry into the country would have forced us to land somewhere far less convenient. Less convenient if Bella had been able to continue her journey, that is. As it was, we were stuck at one end of this big island and she at the other. This was not optimal.

"He's in pain," whispered Jasper as Edward was cleared through customs ahead of us.

"He was fine when he was on the screen viewer talking to me and Rose. Although he did make a crack about something he ate not agreeing with him."

"That's unusual in itself," pondered my brother.

"Tell me about it, man; Edward _never_ makes jokes."

"Emmett-"

"I'm _sorry_. I can't help it. It's my nature to turn every situation into comedy. I can't turn it off any more than you can turn off feeling people's emotions." I threw my hands up in surrender, not wanting to be on the receiving end of his usual concoction of nausea and diarrhoea that he saved for when any of us particularly displeased him. He wouldn't hurt family, but he had no problem making us feel like shit.

"I know. It's fine. Just, just _try_, OK?" I nodded. "What I meant was, if that were true, it's unusual. There's nothing that I know of that one of us could eat that could in any way harm us."

"What about wolf blood? The Forks wolves, I mean. Aren't they poisonous to us?"

"No, other way around. Our bite is lethal to them, but to us they taste bad and nothing else."

"Maybe he's pregnant. OKOK! No more jokes, I _gotit_." I rubbed Rosie's arm as she chuckled into my side. At least one of us found this amusing. There sure was jack shit else to laugh about currently.

Carlisle had acquired the largest suites in the nearby hotel, all three penthouses, and we filed into the elevator. We entered the first one off the elevator and Edward made it as far as the living room before collapsing on one of the sofas as Jasper shut the door behind us.

"Jesus. Dude. What happened to you?" I was thoroughly concerned now. Seeing my brother like this almost made feel guilty for making him the butt of my jokes all these years. Almost.

"I don't know, Emmett. I started feeling a little off while I was talking to you guys on screen and it just got worse and worse after that. There's this throbbing pain and it just won't go away."

"Where is the pain, Edward?" asked Carlisle, ever the doctor. He eased Edward over onto his back and propped him up with cushions. Even he seemed at a loss as to what to do; vampires just didn't get sick.

"In my chest. It started as a little ache but it's so strong now it's hard to breathe. I know I don't need to but still, it's freaking me out a little. Or a lot," he added as he saw my raised eyebrow. I nodded. Edward never used slang like 'freaked out', so the fact that he was meant that it applied in its most extreme definition.

"Your chest?" Carlisle perked up at that information. "Tell me, son, does it...is it a pressure or more like a vacuum? Is it a pushing or pulling sensation, like someone is stepping on your chest or trying to lift you up by it?"

"It's pulling. Definitely pulling. And it got stronger the closer I got. Carlisle, you don't think it's the-" Edward looked alarmed.

"Mating pull? Yes, yes I think it might be. But you've never felt it before, have you? All the time you were with Bella, did you feel it before, even a little?" Edward thought long before answering, his drifting gaze showing that he was looking inward, sifting through memories.

"No," he said confidently. "No, never. I felt love, I felt comfort, and adoration, and friendship. I felt sick from head to toe when she was in danger but I never, ever felt this before."

"Carlisle?" Rosie piped up, leaning out of my embrace towards our father. "What does that mean?"

Carlisle looked at Edward and then at the rest of us in turn, his mind visibly ticking over. He didn't seem to like the conclusions to which those thoughts brought him.

"I think," he said slowly. "I think it means that we may have to face the possibility that Alistair has changed Bella."

"What?!" exclaimed Edward, trying to raise himself up, but the crippling pain obviously held him down fairly securely. "Carlisle no. No he couldn't. He wouldn't. Would he? We don't even know why he was chasing her other than our assumptions about her scent being appealing. Why would he change her?"

"I couldn't presume as to his motives, Edward," Carlisle said, trying to remain calm, and to calm my brother. "But it's the only thing that makes sense at this point. If you've never felt the mating pull before, but you do now, and strongly at that, what else could it mean but that she is now one of us?"

"What about physical maturity, Carlisle?" Esme looked at him questioningly. "Perhaps the mating pull wasn't there because Bella wasn't physically mature while she and Edward were together. And has physically been too far away for either of them to feel it since then?"

"It's a slight possibility at best, my love. She was mature long belong she fled Forks and saw Edward at least half a dozen times. I would have thought that this would have occurred during that time."

"You're right." Esme looked glum. It didn't make sense that this would happen unless Bella had been turned.

"I need to go to her, Carlisle, whether she is one of our species or not she is still a part of this family. I need to know if she is OK. And, if she is not, I need to do everything in my power to right that."

"Edward, you are in no state to fight anyone, especially Alistair."

"But it will get better will it not? The pain, as we travel north? The closer I get to her the more it will lessen, if it is indeed the mating pull that I'm feeling." Carlisle nodded reluctantly.

"Bro, if that's the best option, then that's what we'll do." I shifted forward to pat his hand. We rarely showed physical affection but I needed him to know that I was with him, that we were with him.

"No. No that won't work." Alice's voice floated back from the window at which she had stood silently during the entire conversation, Jasper hovering nearby. She turned to look at the rest of us and walked purposefully to the centre of the group. "If we all go, we all die. Edward _has_ to go, and Carlisle should. Esme won't let Carlisle go without her. And Jasper, you should go."

"What about me and Rose, Alice?" I asked, not liking where this was heading.

"Emmett, if you are there, too, Alistair will be overwhelmed. It's too many male vampires. He will attack...and we will lose."

"So where the hell am I supposed to go?"

Alice looked at all of us and sighed. Obviously she didn't like her answer any more than I was going to.

"Italy."

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><p><strong>OK I have some work to get on with so next one won't be for at least a day or two yet. Hope you're enjoying these new faster updates as much as I am, though.<strong>


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